Rejected!

No sailing this weekend. No date with Frank. How did it come about?

Today, I sent Frank this email: Hey Frank--any sense of the timing--Sat or Sun? I need to get a few other things squared away so it would be helpful to know...

Frank responded: bad news - just called my skipper - tomorrow is out...next sunday is a go though.

I wrote: Oh, that's a shame. I'm out of town next weekend....so maybe the time after that?

Frank wrote: exactly.

And that was that.

I ran down the hall to tell Diego the news. It really was about sailing! I said, "There's no sailing and there's nothing else."

"Did you ask him?" Diego said.

"How many times am I supposed to ask him? I think I did enough already."

"Well, at least you know."

"I didn't need to know."

"But you liked him! You said you liked him."

"No, I did not!!"

Geez. I really have to stop letting Diego bully me into these things.

My feeling about Frank? I like him but I don't think he has boyfriend potential, so that reduces my romantic interest. However, I find him very attractive and if I were inclined towards casual dalliances, he would be an excellent candidate. He is fun and easy going and would possibly make a good friend. That's about it. I was not crushed out on Frank. I was subject to some situational anxiety because I put myself way out there by suggesting alternative plans. I'm grateful that Frank is ignoring my suggestion and not giving me an outright reject. Because, really, I still want to go sailing someday.

---

Guess what? I have another non-dating story to share. Two in one day! Excitement!!

There is this guy, Jeff, in my rowing club, who I've had my eye on for a while. He is a former coach, getting back to the sport. A big, tall, likeable guy. He's been rowing in the morning and coming out in the afternoon as well. He's not quite in shape to row twice a day yet (according to him), so in the afternoons he volunteers to cox. That makes him a good citizen, which I also like.

Earlier this week, he coxed my boat. I was in four-seat and he noticed a problem with my stroke (nothing too serious, but a little tic that's hard to correct). He watched me for a few strokes and told me when I fixed the problem. The next time I saw him I was stretching before practice, and he said, "Were you four-seat in my boat the other day?"

"Yes."

"You know what you were doing, at the catch, you were sinking the oar in too deep…"

"Yes, I remember you told me that."

"But the good thing is that you would bring it right back up and pull through the whole stroke at the right level." (I did something right! Cute boy noticed!) "You just have to figure out how to drop it in at the right level."

"I know. When you were telling me I did it right, those strokes fell very shaky. I know I'm sort of 'attacking' the catch. It's too strong."

"Yeah, you have to lighten up the catch. It's hard to find that balance. And not waste that energy."

"Right. It's funny, I can't remember if this is a problem I had before or not…."

Then another woman came up and started talking to Jeff so I went back to stretching.

The same day, after practice, we all went out for a beer and a bite to eat. When we arrived, our table wasn't ready yet, so we crowded in at the bar. I managed, not by accident, to sit next to Jeff at the very end of the bar. He said, "What beer do they have here?" I read the set of taps nearest to us. "But what about down there? Those taps in the middle—they look different."

"I can't read all the way down there!"

Jeff said, "Me neither." We laughed. "I guess I should go down there and look."

But he didn't go anywhere and when I ordered, he had what I was having. After we got the beers he said, "So, what do you do when you're not rowing?"

I said, "I work at [federal agency] doing research."

"What kind of research?"

"Program evaluation. I study what we do."

He laughed, "You study yourself? Isn't there a problem with that?"

I laughed and said, "You might thinks so, but no. You have to keep track of how your programs work. Anyway, the research is mostly done by contractors. I just tell them what to do." There was a slight pause. I almost kept talking about my job, but instead I said, "So what do you do?"

And he told me! Right about then, I noticed a woman from our club standing just behind us, making a triangle of our group. I'd rowed in front of her that day (I was in four-seat, she was three-seat)—but this is when she chooses to introduce herself, "Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Stacy." We shook hands. She turned to Jeff, "And you're Jeff, right?"

And then the three of us were talking. I saw what she was doing and I didn't like it one bit. The problem? There aren't many guys in our club—it's probably three women for each man. Of the guys, many are coupled and the rest are too old (20+ years) or too young (10- years) for me. Jeff appears to be single, he's over thirty and he's attractive. Stacy is at least ten years younger than me, slim, blonde (irrelevant) and very pretty. I wanted to say, "Stacy, you have way more options than I do, could you please BACK THE HELL OFF." Instead, I smiled, nodded and actively participated in the conversation.

Jeff didn't ignore me in favor of Stacy, but he didn't seem displeased at her presence either. But, that's just the kind of guy he is—friendly and kind to everyone. See why I like him?

When it was time to move to our table, Stacy boxed me out. Boxed me out. She stood in the narrow aisle, blocking me, and waited for Jeff to sit. He chose a seat near the middle, with one chair taken to his right and one empty chair on his left. Stacy swooped in and got the empty chair next to Jeff. I sat one seat over from Jeff on his right—there was a person between us (someone I like, luckily). On my right was a very cute, ten years younger than me guy who I could not appreciate because I was too busy subtly monitoring Jeff's level of attention to Stacy. (Wait, that's not really true, I'm exaggerating for effect. I had a fun time talking to the cute young guy, even if he was a Dookie. But I've talked to him before, and even if you ignore that he's too young for me, we just don't click.)

I had to ask, where is Pele when you need her???

I'm a little concerned since, Jeff, being a rare bird on our club (single, attractive, male) sort of has his pick. I don't want to be one of a bunch of women running after him. I want him to come to me! That may be asking too much.

I just told this story to Diego and guess what he said? "Ask him out!"

Oy.

Grateful for: options.

Drop me a line.