OK, so tell me exactly why I thought signing on for NaBloPoMo again this year was a good idea? Lofty goals? Creature of habit? Sad lemming? Delusions that, where prizes are concerned, third time's a charm? I'm not sure, really, but the fact that I'm beginning my very first post of NaBlo '08 nearly 22 hours into the day indicates a bit of a dubious start.
Never mind that, though. I've got a theme to begin! I took a poll in which several of you voted, and as of right now, 69.05% of you said I should talk about dates for the next month. And really, who better to rattle on about dating than the girl who is home alone at 9:30 on a Saturday, drinking Malbec in her yoga pants instead of being out on an actual date? Seriously, WHO? I am totally qualified to elaborate on this theme, seriously.
Did I mention I have had the better part of a bottle of Malbec tonight? Um, yeah. I have. First post of NaBloPoMo and it's a drunk post at that. Whoo.
So before I begin, a bit of old business. I am no longer juggling two men. I decided Thursday evening that if I hadn't given Bachelor #2 more than a passing thought since our fifth date last Sunday, it was probably a fairly clear indication that I was just not that into him, so I released him via email yesterday. How'd he take it? Not so well, actually. It turns out, no matter how nicely I let a guy down, he takes it personally and lashes back in defensiveness. Seriously, people--I do not know my own power. The fact that any male would be hurt that I don't want to touch him is beyond perplexing to the memory of 18-year-old me. Seriously, where WERE all you men who think I'm so fantastic now when I was in high school and college?? I should just enjoy the moment in some strange, unsatisfying way, but instead, I can't help but cry "No fair!" All of life is a Seinfeld episode, and I'm totally in Bizarro World.
Bachelor #1 is still in the picture, incidentally, though I remain in "keeping my options open" mode. He is the aforenicknamed "Arty-looking IT guy" who made me pony up for membership in my last round of e-dating in the first place. I never did come up with a better blog alias for the guy, so perhaps we should just use initials and call him AW. I like AW quite a lot, and yet, something is holding me back. Any number of psychologists might call out my fear of commitment or some other interpersonal issue requiring therapy. My friends, on the other hand, dismiss the dilemma more simply and quickly by saying, "It sounds like you're done with him." Who is right? Time will tell. Meanwhile I'm still in Wait and See mode.
All right then. That catches you up on new business (which I think I actually referred to as old business... Robert's Rules, anyone? I've said before that I'm not much of a club-joiner, so it should be no surprise that I don't know how these things work). ANYWAY, on to NaBloPoMo. I promised you stories of 30 dates in 30 days, and where better to start than my very FIRST date? Seems a logical jumping-off point, doesn't it?
As I'm sure I've said before (like, in paragraph 4 of this very post, actually), I'm a bit of a late bloomer. Hence, I didn't date much in my formative years. There was a guy in 10th grade whom I consider "my first pseudo-boyfriend" (perhaps I'll write about him next), but my first formal "I'd like to take you on something we'll formally call a DATE" invitation didn't come until senior year of high school. True to the ridiculousness that is high school, the invitation came in hand-written note form, passed from the asker to my friend Cary and then on to me. Strangely, it wasn't even a guy I saw regularly or had any sort of spark of chemistry with prior. But for some reason, he decided "Stefanie! I should ask Stefanie out." Hence, the note relayed to me in 2nd hour Physics class.
The guy's name was Steve, and while he was perfectly nice, I had no interest in him beyond "friend of a friend" status. One of those "friend of a friend"s was my friend Rick (who, as a sidenote, recently Facebook-friended me but has yet to send a message or comment of any sort to make the re-connection any less false or awkward-like). It was Rick who said, "Well, obviously you two aren't going to 'go' together, but you should say yes anyway. I mean, if nothing else, Free Movie! Just go. It'll make him happy."
So we went. As I recall, we went with Rick and one of my best female friends, and she and Rick for some reason sat behind us at the theater, as if they were in chaperone mode. I don't even remember what the movie was, which is strange because I'm sure I knew last year and even last week. (Malbec? Can we blame the Malbec? Does wine temporarily erase memories that have been fixed in place for 15 years or more?) [UPDATE: Addams Family! It was The Addams Family. No idea why I forgot that for a couple of hours...] And while I remember driving to the movie as a foursome, I know it was Steve and Steve alone who dropped me off at my parents' house that night. And as he idled in the driveway, our family dog barking at the unfamiliar car suspiciously, he turned to me and said, "So! We do this again sometime?" Given that I was just as nervous and in just as uncharted territory as he apparently was, I didn't question his foreign exchange student-like sentence structure. With my hand on the door release, I just said, "Um, how about I get back to you on that?" and then I quickly dashed out of the car and into the house.
Strangely, he never asked me out again. Stranger still, it never became any sort of awkward sticking point. My graduating class was a class of merely 100, and yet, as far as I know, no one knew we went out, and as far as I know, he gave it no more than a second thought after that night.
Sometimes I long for the simplicity of youth. Where anonymity and moving on briskly is concerned, high school is not generally a time I think back on fondly. That said, if I could channel the Me who successfully dodged another date way back so long ago, I would. Somehow, that clueless and inexperience self mastered something I can't seem to accomplish today.