These past two weeks have given me a fair share of exposure to the dating world.
It all started November 6th, two Saturdays ago. After I had finished grocery shopping and taking care of what I like to call "suburban living duties", an unexpected phone call from my HR friend resulted in my getting ready to head out to WeHo.
What can I say about WeHo that I haven't already? I went this time strictly to hang out with some friends and didn't bother looking for an eligible gentleman to date - or anything else for that matter.
We had gone to the Abbey as per our usual, and we were immediately greeted by a larger group of friends (that I didn't know but was soon introduced to). An individual in that new group bought me a drink, but I didn't think anything more than it being a friendly gesture. I thanked him and we talked for a good bit, until another friend offered me another drink.
I haven't been drinking recently, so when I had had just one martini, I was already starting to feel the effects. I didn't want another just yet, but before I could refuse, I had one placed in my hand. Since I know when enough is enough, I didn't drink it. I sat down, but I was getting light-headed anyway.
"I just need some water", I was thinking to myself. I headed to the closest bar. I started feeling numb and at that point, I knew that I had had too much to drink. Of course, a place like the Abbey fills with people rather quickly, so I had to inch my way to the bartender very slowly. Along the way, I was befriended by quite a few people.
Two were very nice women that felt that I had to know everything about why they were in WeHo looking for men. I told them (quite bluntly) that they were in the wrong place, but I'm sure any of the gentlemen around would be more than willing to dance with them. One of the women started asking me about what kind of women I liked, but I had to tell her that I was more of the "man type". She understood and introduced me to her guy friend.
He was shorter than I am (mind you, I'm only like 5'8", so he was really small) and he had a big, stupid smile on his face. At that point, I was starting to get a headache and just wanted some water. He insisted on talking to me, even though I tried to excuse myself to the bar. I explained to him that I was sure he was nice, but I needed to get something to drink.
"What'll you have"? He had asked. I told him just plain water. He came back with a glass full of it. "No thanks" I told him, and he looked confused. "I appreciate it", I explained, "but I don't drink anything that a stranger hands me, maybe if it were in a sealed bottle". He understood, and brought me back a sealed bottle of water.
You may call me paranoid, but there could be anything in a drink that someone hands you. I had enough chem in school (and I was an RA) to know the dangers of stuff like that all too well. I opened it and drank. I thanked him, and we talked for a bit. He asked what I was doing for the rest of the night, and I told him that I was heading home. "You can come with me", he had said, but I was adamant about it and it wasn't up for discussion. I thanked him, and told him that he would no doubt meet someone very nice, and then I said I would see him later.
When I got back to my group of friends, my HR friend said that he was worried about me because I had just "dissappeared". I told him where I went, and that I had been gone for maybe ten minutes. He told me that I was gone for a lot longer, and not to wander off again. I wasn't in the state of mind to argue, so I leaned against the wall with my water, waiting for that wooziness to go away.
A man with a slight Irish accent asked me if I was tired (I must have looked it because I was leaning against the wall, with my head up and eyes closed). I told him that I was ok, but had a wee bit too much to drink. He kind of laughed at that, and we started talking more. I asked what part of Ireland he was from, and I got the answer I was expecting (Dublin), and asked him why he was way the hell over here in LA. He said that he was out looking for some guys to have a little fun with. Like a moron, I had to ask what kind of guys he was looking for (which, I can say to everyone, is a universally not good thing to ask anyone) and he replied, "guys like you".
"Semi-drunk ones"? I had asked, half-joking. He smiled and said that he liked guys that looked like they were black Irish. I started talking to him about my grandma's supposed Irish heritage, and that, if anything, it would be black Irish because her maiden name was Garcia. He asked me what kind of guys I was looking for.
I told him that I wasn't looking for any guys that night, and that I was just waiting for my friends. He asked if I wanted to leave with him, and I told him that I had no plans on going anywhere but home that evening. Alone. He said that it was a shame, and then he asked if there was anything that he could say or do to get me to go home with him. Thankfully, my other friend that I had gone to WeHo with grabbed my hand, held it up, and said, "We're boyfriends". The guy smiled, said "Of course", and left me alone after that. But this friend didn't let go of my hand. I didn't pull away because I figured that it would be best so I could be left alone.
After the Abbey, the group wanted to go to Mickey's. I hate Mickey's. It's a dark, dirty place full of after-partiers that weren't successful in finding a companion for the evening (well, in my opinion). Mickey's offers them a second chance with all of the "left-overs". I hate using those terms, but I also hate that place, so I guess it's ok.
My friend still didn't let go of my hand - even after we left the Abbey, crossed the street, dodged past people on the sidewalk, and stood in line at Mickey's. It started to make me think that he didn't just want to hold my hand to pretend. I pulled away, but nicely. I thanked him, and he smiled. "Sure". He said.
Inside, I got more water and just stayed a wallflower. I wanted to go home. They didn't. I didn't want to ruin their fun, so I just stood quietly. When they noticed, they asked if I was ready to go. I was. They said, "Oh good, we're heading to [another friend's] apartment. It'll be fun. I groaned.
At the apartment, the friend that held my hand previously divulged his life story to me, and indirectly told me that he had liked me. I figured, but I didn't want to lead him on. I listened and we talked - for about four hours. When all was said and done, I got home at 6AM Sunday morning. In all honesty, I had fun that night, but I only in the first few hours.
Wednesday of that week (the 10th), I had a lunch date with an intern where I work. He was nice and all, but not quite what I'm looking for. Saturday of that week (the 13th) I had another date with a very nice guy from Oak Park.
He's two years younger than I am, but that's ok. I'm getting to know him, and we've already been out twice - just having dinner and talking, mind you. Nothing else. I don't want to get my hopes up, nor do I want to short circuit things before they start - if anything does start. I do like him. That's all I need to know for right now. If things develop, ok. If we decide that friendship is better, then that's fine too. No rush. No rush at all.
You know what really bugs me?
Spiders. That's right. Don't you hate it when you're lying in bed, trying to get some sleep, and you see something that's dark with eight legs clinging calmly to the ceiling above your bed?
You look at it thinking to yourself, "It's just a little spider. It'll go away." And then you close your eyes. You get this uneasy feeling and open them again, only to see the eight-legged thing has moved even closer to you.
Then, you start making little silent deals with the creature, "Look, just skitter the other way, and let me sleep. You can live, and I can sleep. Please don't bite me and inject your horrible spider venom while I rest. Live and let live."
Deluding yourself that you're satisfied, you close your eyes again. Then you get this creeping feeling. When you open your eyes once more, the thing has gotten even closer, most likely directly above your head. You didn't actually see it move, but it did. That means that it knows exactly when you shut your eyes, and it's just waiting to sink its eager fangs into your flesh when you finally dose off.
Fear turning to anger, you get fed up, then turn on the light. You go to grab something, anything, to kill it with - a tissue, the plunger, whatever is available. You know that the only way you can possibly sleep at this point is to ensure its death. When you finally confront the creature while standing on your bed, arm outstretched to smash it, it bungee jumps at the last second with invisible silken thread down to your bed. You see that you missed, and you know that it's now somewhere on your covers, hidden from your eyes.
Anger turns back to fear - the venemous thing has now infiltrated your bed, and you know it wants to GET you. What do you do? You call for reinforcements.
With a quick call, both cats enter the room. You shut the door and throw both of the furry purring things on your bed. They look at you absently, then lay down and start to groom themselves. They don't comprehend the importance of your battle, and you resolve to dig through the comforter yourself to root out the offending arachnid.
With a little luck, you manage to absently smash it with the palm of your hand, leaving nothing so much as a little smear of what was once your enemy. Then you kick the felines off of your bed and fall into a restless slumber. You fear that the thing may come back with its own reinforcements, the kind that will bite you while you sleep.
I moved my parents out of their old house this last week, and finally moved myself in last night.
Halloween morning, I went over to say goodbye and make sure that everything was in order. I didn't stay long; maybe an hour and a half at most. We talked for a bit, and our voices echoed through the then-empty house. My parents went over the different bills, what to expect, the common nuances of owning a home, and all that other stuff. When it came down to the last few minutes before they had to leave, I actually didn't feel sad. Neither did they, apparently.
However, once they finally left, I felt this uncomfortable sinking feeling in my stomach. I went into the house by myself and closed the door behind me. It was empty, save for two pairs of eyes looking up and staring at me. My parents had left the cats behind for me to take care of - mostly because they were old and a plane trip would have been traumatic (or so the parents say; I for one don't believe them. I think they just didn't want to take care of the cats anymore).
In any case, I found myself asking them if we'd get along being new roommates; to which they replied only with wide-eyed stares. I walked around for a little while too. It looked and felt the same as it did when I had lived there during high school. I immediately thought about how I wanted to change everything, though I know that it would take some time.
After I left the house, I headed to my old apartment to pack some stuff. I took a break to have lunch with my cousin, and she told me that she was really sad that I was leaving and that she didn't want me to go. I felt bad, but I didn't let it get to me too much. I took a break and took her out to lunch. After we got back, I finished packing my bathroom into my car and got a call from my sister.
She called and reserved a UHall for me and said that I had to be finished packing everything by 1500. It was 1330. There was no way. I drove back to the house, unpacked my car, picked up my sister from her apartment, drove back to get a UHall, then back to my apartment, loaded it up, drove back to the house, unloaded my stuff, dropped off the truck, took my sister home, went back to the apartment to get a few more things, then drove back to the house again. I was greeted by trick-or-treaters with open bags. I scrounged around the kitchen for anything that would work as treats. I ended up giving some of them some long forgotten (though not expired, I checked) candy and others pop-tarts.
I was exhausted. By the time I assembled my bed and took a shower, it was 2300. Keep in mind that I had to be up at 0600 to get ready for work. As I layed down in the pitch black of my new room, I found myself uneasy and unable to sleep. I layed there, switching from staring at the clock to the ceiling for a good while until I felt something large and heavy land on the bed. At first, I couldn't see and didn't know what it was until I heard a loud "Mao" come from it. Then it dug it's claws into my leg over and over and made a purring noise. The cat had come to claim its spot on the bed. I kicked him aside and forced him off. I can't sleep when anything else is in a bed with me. Off the cat went, until I felt another, lighter one jump on the bed. Then the heavy one again. Both were all over the place. I forced them off. Eventually, I dosed.
I woke up at 0413 for no reason, and forced the cats off the bed. I fell back asleep and awoke once more at 0521, with both cats on me again. Pushing them off, I went back to sleep, only to wake up at 0557 with the duo right there. I decided to get up. Now I'm tired as all hell and at work. I hope the day gets better.