Jinx
ZANG, POW, ZAP, KABLAM, would be a fairly accurate description at how I feel right now; oh and throw in a couple of Homer Sipmson WOO HOO�s for good measure. My weekend was tons of fun just in its own right, without the elation, joy and sense of impending doom that was thrown in on top of it all. Alas, I�m already ahead of myself�
Friday was spent at my favorite place to be seen by people I don�t know dancing the night away. The group of suburban foot soldiers known as the Axis of awesome took to the dance floor and ended up blinking stupidly at the lights when they turned them on at 330AM. Somehow I lost five hours in a binge of indulgence that ended with at least a couple of hours spent on the dance floor. The tall cute one ended up on stage making out with a random reveler, while the musician and the writer danced our white boy dance for the most part entirely unaccompanied. The token gay girl flirted her way through the evening and fun was once again had by all.
Saturday broke like a gun shot and I spent the day in a perpetual scramble, moving from one social engagement to another with barely enough time to grab a quick 20 minute power nap in between showers and venue stops. Breakfast at Duke�s sports bar with the under 21, totally-the-type-of-chick-you-would-want-to-see-naked-because-you-are-a-dirty-old-man, waitress, followed up with a quick dash for showers and fifths of rum. I then attended one of the best college football games I possibly have ever witnessed. ASU battled back and forth with UCLA for almost the entire game before the hometown boys pulled it off. Next up Cal and if the Devils can take them out, they have the inside track to the Rose Bowl, provided USC can pull it together and make a bid for number 1.
Now the wine tasting party was by far the oddest event of the weekend. Hosted at my buddy�s, girlfriends house, there were seven or eight of us that hung out back next to the fire pit and sampled wines under the stars. I tasted a decent chardony, a tart chivanti and a very sweet and flavorful merlat; none of which I could spell. There is a reason that I�m a beer drinker over anything, and I�m guessing at this point it�s because I can actually spell ale and lager.
I�ve been exchanging email correspondence with yet another woman I met via the internet. She also is another attempted conquest from the coveted mywhore.com site I�ve been monkeying with for several months. I mentioned her in passing, more of a blip or a burp to avoid the first meeting jinx. The jinx has been a prominent figurehead in my social life for a number of months. To date, any new prospect that has manifested that could possibly, maybe work their way into my love life, I�ve splashed details across the web and talked endlessly to my comrades in arms. This is done to alleviate some of the pressure off of actually meeting someone new and exciting for the first time. For some reason the normal ritual detailed above has seemed to have a negative impact on my success ratio, resulting in an 0-some number I�d rather not think about. So this time, I did think a bit differently and only mentioned in passing to my roommate about this particular girl a couple of times to try and calm myself and he obliged. As soon as I started to go off, he is also curt enough to tell me to shut the fuck up so I didn�t jinx myself�again�
I�m extremely excited and jovial to report that the initial meeting went off without a hitch. There was very little first time awkwardness and we chatted away like old college buddies playing catch up at how much things had changed and what we thought of different shit. It was great. It was fantastic. It was�it was�
ZANG, POW, ZAP, KABLAM
Somehow, almost everyone I spend social time with showed up at the bar. This sort of freaked me a bit because being thrust into a social circle that is intimately familiar with each other is an awful lot of pressure for a newcomer to deal with. She didn�t even flinch, which in defense of the situation, everyone else at the bar could have been on fire and shooting each other laser guns and I don�t think either of us would have noticed. I wish I could recall every single detail that we rambled off, but between being intoxicated by her presence and the beer we drank and drank, there are a few details I�m missing. Besides this we simply interjected a subject and ran wild with it, until we went off on tangents based somewhat on the original subject matter. I got a hug at the end of the night and was advised by the homey�s in attendance that they could see in her eyes that I was in like Flynn.
And here is where everything gets complicated. She talks about her ex-boyfriend a lot. Under the circumstance I can totally understand because they just broke up a couple of months ago. This is perturbing because she associates and relates a good number of conversational topics as, �well my X and I�.� or �I went to this place a lot with my X�� etc. The biggest hang up I have about this currently is that I spent six months helping my ex-girlfriend put her life back together after her most recent boyfriend dogged her out. On the outside, she (my x) is totally fine, moving in a forward direction, being social, laughing, talking; the works. But on the inside she was a total wreck of a human being, so desperate for interaction with the male species that you could see it. I don�t know my newest love type interest enough to draw any sort of conclusion. However, such things are hanging out in the back of my mind and I�m crossing my fingers she gave him the boot and not the other way around. It appears that the swapping of these stories is something I�ll have to initiate very soon.
No story of mine involving love in the desert would be complete without some sort of monkey wrench thrown in the mix, just for good measure. In this case, this should be a non-factor; something that is so not worth considering that it shouldn�t even be on my radar screen. An occurrence that has a probability of factor of 254,372 to 1; unfortunately for me, I�m too much like Solo for my own good (i.e., never tell me the odds). My unobtainable crush bristled with envy and made a couple of out of character jealous laden comments over the attention I was lavishing upon my newest lady friend. At the time, I wrote this off as little more than her having a growing fondness for my friendship and company and advice from a friend that she tends to be very protective of her boys once she adopts them as her own. This solidified my adoption status and made me feel really good about this budding friendship. As of late she has been griping more than usual about her boyfriend whom is never around and called me this morning to advise that she had caught him in a lie. Her ranting was something about him being dishonest about where he went to and the fact that no man would ever drink Mango Martini�s as the receipt she found in his bathroom stated. I did the best to be objective and let her know that any forthcoming decisions about what to do with him should be made without the input from biased third parties. What I was thinking the entire time is how much I would love to spend the end of my days with a woman that displays qualities, mannerisms and physical beauty the likes of which I haven�t felt since�
With a deep, cleansing breath, I remind myself that friends are friends and such lines are not meant to be crossed. Unless she strips naked in front of me and tells me she�s taking me on as her soul mate, I think it is in my best interest to keep my life a simple as possible.
Last night I dreamt insomniac dreams of female perfection and awoke twisted and sweating in my sheets. The only details I can remember are a set of eyes staring at me from the darkest recesses of my pillow topped bed and that�s when I remembered. We talked for hours, staring into each others eyes as topics flew out of our mouths. Inches apart we stood and sat, huddling as close as possible without touching and I can�t for the life of me remember what color her freaking eyes were. At least, dearest of diaries, some things never change.
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