Last Saturday Night

I've actually been feeling a bit bad for the past few days. Last Saturday, I had such a weird, out of character day. Instead of going for a run, getting my errands done, squeezing in some beach time and plopping down in front of a netflix at 8:30 -- like the responsible (ie: lame, dorky, boring) gal that I am -- I turned into Carrie Bradshaw for the day.

I started out doing some errands and ended up ditching them to purchase some completely useless things that I don't even need but decided I couldn't do without. I kicked my running shoes across the room and spent my beach time counseling a friend over the phone about how to seek revenge upon a guy who has been less than forthcoming about his level of dating availability for the past 5 weeks. (he's made her into the other woman without her knowledge. A crime punishable by no fewer than 18 possibilities)

Finally, as evening approached, I got my butt in gear and put on my super cute "active dress". It looks great and you can bend-and-twist-and-jump-and-leap-and-karate-kick-the-hell-out-of-lying-pricks while wearing it without worrying about ruining it. I always tell people that Serena Williams gave it to me. Hooray for "just a touch of lycra".

This super adorable super-hero type outfit was for a super date with somebody I will call Potential P. Potential P and I met a few weeks ago and we seem to get along well. We've gone biking and kayaking and walking on the beach and I fixed his shoulder injury and he's gonna help me buy a bike. The only problem is that I seem to be stuck in that "I'm just not there yet" phase of life. He seems pretty into me and I like him, but I'm just not there yet.

Last year at this time, I was single and miserable, pining away for M, and crying at the drop of a hat. This year, I am single and happy. I love my freedom. I love doing whatever I want, whenever I want without having to check with somebody else. And I love triathlons. I just don't seem to be heading toward love with Potential P.

I've been very up front with him about this. He knows I'm stuck firmly in Friendsville. I'm open to the idea of cruising down the highway towards Something More. I guess I've just been waiting for the road map to come blowing in the window. It hasn't yet.

So I thought, maybe the active dress was just the catalyst I needed. Every other time we've been together, we've been wearing workout wear. Maybe wearing something adorable and less sporty (Serena Williams aside) was just the ticket.

Just as I was bounding down the stairs to jeepy-jeep, though, I got a text from Potential P. He was nixing the super-date with super-me and my active dress. "Can't make it. I really have to study." He had been teaching a climbing class all day and had to work in REI the next morning. He is taking pre-req's for a course of study next year, so I suppose he does have to squeeze studying in sometime between his 3 jobs. Even if it does mean missing me leaping about in my "just a touch of lycra" garment.

I had just decided I was going to dye my hair purple that night when I got another text from another guy friend: "Get your sweet ass up to Boston." Hmmm. Rather demanding, but hey, I'm all active-dressed up with no place to go so why not?

After a series of comic misunderstandings that I will not go into here, I finally came to the conclusion that I was summoned to Boston to be Nerd's female wingman. Of course, that was before I knew that there was no such thing as a female wingman (see July 28 post). I now know that I was summoned to be Nerd's instant girlfriend for the night, otherwise known as a "pretend girlfriend". Ask any guy about it.

Well, after another series of comic/tragic misunderstandings and 5 beers, lets just say that I became really unclear on the boundaries of friendship. I forgot the definition of "pretend". Or maybe I just became the best female wingman ever! I'm not really sure of the job responsibilities. Anyway, I blame the dress. (Stupid Serena Williams!)

Sunday morning came around and I was faced with the harsh knowledge I that didn't even recognize myself. Where was the over-the-garage-dwelling, jeep-driving, distance-running, boring girl I knew so well? She had been replaced by somebody else entirely! A cute girl who does really stupid things to her hair, who looks good in an adorable dress that turns its wearer into a harlot, who lacks boundaries, has questionable morals, and strings one dude along while vying for another, though not totally on purpose. I had been replaced by Carrie Bradshaw, the Aiden years!

So for the past few days, I have been feeling rather guilty. I had thought I was "just not there yet", but maybe I was "just not into Potential P". Which is fine. But I feel like I've been sort of stringing him along. I thought of poor Potential P, sitting at home studying on a Saturday night, while I go off the deep end with Nerd.

And what is up with Nerd? I've never thought of Nerd and anything more than a nerd until Saturday. Now I'm all confused. I blame the dress. (Stupid touch of lycra!)

Well, tonight, No-Potential P and I were going to go biking after work. I figured when we got a bite to eat afterward, dressed appropriately in our workout clothes, I would let him know that I really didn't see it going anywhere other than Friendsville. I would say that while I have always been open to the idea of cruising down that highway toward Something More, there just seems to be no on-ramp. I would be that nice, boring, honest girl with stalwart morals and a desire to do stupid things to her hair. (Next weekend that purple is going IN. Oh yeah!!) I would let him down easy.

Only, just as I was getting out of work today, I got a text message from No-Potential P: "Can't make it. Still studying." "Ok", I texted back, "another time." When I started up jeepy-jeep I got another text from the same guy friend: "Hey QT- Same place as Sat?" I texted back "huh?" and he replied: "Sorry. Not 2 U. 4 my roommate." Hmmmm. It seems that Potential P had a female wingman of his own on Saturday night.

All feelings of guilt instantly fell away.

And tonight I answered the emails that Nerd has been sending me since Sunday.

NOT SO FUNNY

Today it has come to my attention that sometimes when I attempt to be funny, I end up being mean instead. I had NO idea! Apparently, I have inadvertantly insulted at least three people in the last month.

Anyone who knows me understands that this would never be my intent. (Also, anyone with half a brain would understand that I am, in fact, FUNNY and anyone who thinks I'm mean has no sense of humor.) Oh, look! Maybe that last sentence is an example of what these people were talking about?

Anyway, I wanted to take this opportunity to send out sincere apologies if I have offended anyone in the past with some lame attempt at a joke. As a public service message, here are some touchy subjects about which NEVER to joke:

1) the Kreb's cycle. (seriously. Some do not take oxidative glycolosis lightly at all)
2) Bon Jovi music
3) Bon Jovi's hair
4) Bon Jovi's age
5) Bon Jovi's clothes
6) basically, anything to do with Bon Jovi. OFF LIMITS.
7) "The Secret"
8) High School Musical
9) Budweiser beer
10) wine-in-a-box
11) Amy Winehouse (ok, not really. You can make as many jokes about Amy Winehouse as you want. I just thought it sounded funny after wine-in-a-box.)

Oh, crap. I just did it again.

NOT A WINGMAN

I learned something new today. There is no such thing as a female wingman. I did not know this. How I could have gone 38 years without knowing this is beyond me. However, I do take some consolation in the fact that none of my female friends knew this. And I'm a little ticked off that all of my male friends knew this.

Since Saturday night, I have been under the impression that I was acting as a female wingman. I felt pretty damn proud of myself, actually. I am so frickin' cool! I am one of the guys! I am the one they call when they need to rid themselves of an unwanted presence for the night. The female wingman! Wing-gal! or Wing Grrrl. Or Wingy-bitch! I don't care what you call me, just call me! I'm there for you. The female wingman.

However, at lunch today, my friend Don decided to burst my bubble. I was relaying the story of the frantic phone call and subsequent flurry of text messages that lead me to the bar.

"Oh" he said, "Sounds like somebody needed an instant girlfriend for the night."

"Well, yeah." I said

"He had a clinger he needed to get rid of?"

"Something like that." (A posse of homosexual clingers, actually, but that's a story for another day)

"And he called you to come save him."

"Yup!" I answered proudly, "I was his wingman!"

Don gave me a look of bemused pity. "Oh, honey; you weren't his wingman. You were his girlfriend for the night. There is a huge difference. And there are no female wingmen."

I looked around the staff room. All of my male coworkers were nodding. All of my female coworkers looked confused.

"Wait!" I countered. "What do you mean there are no female wingmen? Have you ever heard of that?"

I wasn't addressing anyone in particular. Again, all of my male coworkers were nodding while all my female coworkers shook their heads.

"Is this common knowledge? I mean, have YOU ever called in an instant girlfriend for the night?"

There was a collective "Oh, yeah!" from the testosterone gallery.

"Why have I never heard of this?"

"Well," Don said, "we're guys. We don't talk about this stuff. As a matter of fact, there may be serious repercussions for my even talking to you."

As I was trying to digest this, Don dealt the final blow. "Oh, and you have to make sure to set boundaries when you're an instant girlfriend for the night. If you don't, you automatically become a part-time girlfriend."

"Meaning?"

"He'll only call you when he wants something."

You know what? I think I'm okay with that.

I'm BAAAAACK

Oh, to be back in contact with the world! It turns out that router problem was way more than we originally bargained for. So now, 20 days and one new internet provider later, we are all back on line and cleaning out the in-boxes.

What's more is that I lost my cell phone last week. I know exactly where I lost it, too. Unfortunately, it was ON A BUS and the only thing I could do was wait until somebody turned it in. It would've made things a lot easier if the bus station actually picked up a phone when somebody called. Its not like I have tons of extra time during the day or like I work at a desk where I can work while the phone just dials by itself in the background set to speaker phone. No, I have to wait for breaks between patients and that only happens if somebody no-shows. (not cancells, as the cancelled spot will be filled with another patient. It seems we have started running outpatient clinics like airlines with standby lists. But that is a story for another day.)

Anyway, when I finally did get thru to somebody, she told me that I was welcome to come in and look in the lost and found box. She wouldn't look in the lost and found box for me and let me know if a red cell phone with a big "peace love and happiness" sticker on it was in that box. Way too common a found item, I suppose? I would have to come down to the bus station as look myself.

I asked her for the street address, since the website for the bus station did not have it listed.

"Well, I could give you the street address, but we are not actually located there, so it wouldn't do you any good."

"Ok", I replied, "Could you give me directions to the bus station? I'm coming from off-cape."

"Oh, we are right in Hyannis", she said. "You can't miss it. Its the building with weathered gray shingles and white trim."

You don't say? On Cape Cod? That building should just jump right out at me!

"All right. Let's say I'm not familiar with Hyannis. I would come down Route 6 and get off Exit 6 and then I would go where?"

"Well," she said, "You could get off exit 5 or exit. Whichever. All depends on how you want to go."

"How about you just give me the street address? Even if the building isn't located there. Would that be ok?"

The good news is, my phone was turned in 4 days later so I only had to make the trip there 4 times.

Oh, to be back on the radar...

ON MY WAY

Off to a good start; I went out and went rollerblading today after work. Even though my whole head was itchy as hell. It was weird; halfway through the day my eyes started itching. Then my nose and my ears. By the end of the day, I felt like an addict, blinking, squinting, scratching my nose, pulling my ears, clearing my throat, scatching my head all figety and jumpy. Surprisingly, the rollerblading cleared up the itching a bit. And a violent scratch-down with the loofa in the shower cleared it up a bit more. But I still think I'm gonna swallow a benedryl before bed tonite, so I don't wake up with my eyes swollen shut or something. What the hell happened to me?

HELLO JULY

So my wireless card has been fighting with the router for the first few days of July, which has meant a reprive from doing anything whatsoever on the computer. When I finally fixed the problem, I had approxomately 400,000 emails waiting for me; 399,975 of them junk mail. Oh well.

It also gave me an oppotunity to think about exactly what the hell I should be striving for in July. I must admit, I'm starting to lose steam. What exactly am I striving for? I don't feel as if I have changed for the better or the worse at all since January. And furthermore, this whole blog thing just may be an ode to mediocrity and boredom. But then again, that just may be the stomache bug that has plagued me all of this July 4th long weekend talking.

I had thought about for my 30 day thing: sleeping outside for 30 days. (tent optional) The mosquitos are insane this year, though. Not just in their sheer number, but in their level of aggression. I fear that I may be one giant itching pustule come August. So instead, I decided that I need to (1) exercise outside every day. Starting tomorrow. Since I needed to stay in close proximity to a bathroom this weekend.

(2) I will GO SURFING! technically, I've done this before. But I sucked. So I will try to surf non-suckily

(3) I just got a whole list of summery reads courtesy of Jen Lancaster's blog, so I am going to be easy and breezy and read one of those. Whichever I can find most easily.

(4) I am going to buy...a new bike. Yeah, I like triathlons that much.

(5) I am going to go to a bar on the beach (either in Cape Cod or Virginia Beach, or both) and look cute till somebody buys me a drink. Good goal. I just may turn back into myself aged 26!

(6) and yeah, I am going to both dive into the craft pile and dust off the guitar. Enough is enough. And July is enough.

Have I mentioned that when I'm not riddled with a horrible GI , I LOVE summer? Just checking.