Stupid

Thursday night, I watched basketball with Kansas (my alcoholic ex-non-boyfriend). It wasn't planned. I had no guarantee that he'd be at the bar (well, except that he's a barfly). I cannot justify my behavior or my pursuit of the unavailable. The bizarre cherry on top of the night was that Sailor (faded work crush) was there too. I'll get to that in a minute.

That night, I was bound and determined to push myself a little out of the comfort zone of work-home-knit. I've been doing this volunteer thing and the organization was holding a happy hour, so I went.

I didn't stay long. Not only would no one talk to me—no one would even make eye contact. It was pathetic. I was the only solo person there. How can you go to such an event just to hang out with your friends? Crazy. One guy turned around to move his coat out of my way, talked to me, moved his coat, then turned back to continue a conversation with his friend. About Easter timing. Seriously. That's pretty private, emotional stuff. Good call on not including me.

I was so frustrated that I finished my drink ultra quick and scooted off. You might almost say I left in a huff. I was frustrated and I wanted to see a friendly face. I wanted someone to be happy to see me.

Walking to the happy hour bar, I'd promised myself that if things did not go well, I could go to the old bar and see what was what. After that one quick drink, it seemed like an especially good plan.

No, of course, I knew it was "wrong." I did a little internal tussling, but my course was set and I was staying it.

When I walked into the old bar, there was Kansas, perched on his usual stool in his usual spot. He perked up when he saw me but didn't seem especially surprised that I was there. I sat down next to him and we started up an easy conversation and I ordered a drink. I said, "You're something. You don't seem surprised to see me at all."

He said, "It's basketball season." True enough.

Sitting next to him, I felt bittersweet affection. I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about Kansas, other than ruefully, but I know that I like him. I had a brief moment or two when I thought about kissing him again. And then I remembered what it was actually like to kiss him and I remembered the snoring. I sighed and turned back to the basketball game and let go of my fantasy.

On a trip back from the restroom, I saw Sailor. He was sitting on the crowded side of the bar, out of view of Kansas's spot. I couldn't tell if he was on his own or with the guy sitting next to him. I was surprised and happy to see him. I stopped and we chatted—about basketball, of course.

Sailor is as unavailable and unattainable as Kansas. He is appropriate, though, so a better object of affection. But it kind of doesn't matter. Neither one of them has boyfriend potential. And, as you may recall (but I don't recall if I wrote about it), Kansas doesn't want to be my boyfriend either. He just wants someone to lean on. Sailor doesn't even want that (from me). I'm so tired of only liking unavailable men. When will I learn my lesson?

I got back to Kansas and said, "Huh. I just ran into this guy from work."

"Really? Good or bad?"

I thought for a second, "I don't know. I had a big crush on him but he didn't like me. What's wrong with him?"

Kansas said, "What indeed!"

I said, "You know, I don't think I have a crush on him anymore." (I believed it when I said it.)

"You don't. That's good."

Kansas asked if I was going to come back on Friday and watch the Carolina game. He said, "It's at 7:10pm. I'll be here. You can watch it here."

"Maybe."

"Or at home. All the games are online."

I said, "I'll probably come here. Sure."

I had a great time watching Duke almost lose (Butler: I love you forever after that game). As soon as the game was over, I said, "I gotta go." I gathered my stuff and Kansas didn't ask me to stay or offer to walk out with me. I was gone in five minutes.

The sad thing is that I went back on Friday. I walk into the bar and see all of Kansas's buddies. Good guys. Friendly guys. Most of them remember me and I'm happy to see them and talk. Kansas is no where to be seen and I feel foolish. Carolina is walking away with the game and I decide to go home. I'm talking to Kansas's best buddy and I say, "I have to go home."

He says, "You don't have to."

I say, "I have to."

He says, "I don't want to overstep. But I know what you're thinking: Kansas is coming soon and you don't want to see him. Don't worry, he's not coming out tonight."

I smiled (ruefully, of course) and said, "I just saw him yesterday."

"Oh."

"Anyway, if anything, he should be avoiding me. I don't care." (Liar!)

"Ok, well, you don't have to go home then."

I said, "I have to go." I bummed a cigarette and walked home. I thought, "I should really thank Kansas for keeping me from making an even bigger fool of myself." And, "If his buddy only knew that I was there looking for Kansas. What would he think of me?"

Fuck it. I'm going to Paris.

Grateful for: soft landings.

Pet

On Friday, I went out with some work people: Nina, Sailor, a new guy in Sailor's office, and Danielle (a woman from my division). It was Nina's idea—she wanted to do an "H St pub crawl." I certainly didn't object, since it's my neighborhood.

I guided the group there via bus (the most direct way). Sailor and the new guy had directions too but their routes were all longer. I know the best way there. Yes, they teased me about it.

About this time last year, I went on a similar outing with Nina. It was wet and awful and we only went to one place. Plus, I rushed off after to see my (insert slightly derogatory adjective here) boyfriend and that didn't go so well. I'm happy to report that this trip was a lot more fun. It was a cold night, but not wet and that makes all the difference.

We started at Dr. Granville Moore's, which is a real restaurant. The food menu is short, just the way I like it, and there are tons of Belgian beers to choose from (which is overwhelming). I got the burger, which is great, and the only thing I seem to order there. You're supposed to get the mussels. Oh well.

The five of us had a good meal and decent conversation. I think Sailor likes Nina. It pains me every so slightly, but I'm grinning and bearing it. I sat next to the new guy. He's friendly and cute so I didn't mind at all.

I don't usually socialize with Danielle (long, boring story), but there's no ill-will between us and she's quite pleasant. We had an interesting conversation about work stuff. She was very happy that TR is our new boss. She wasn't crazy about the old boss. I didn't know that. She said, "Oh, it was different for you. Larry loved you! Teacher's pet!"

Now, I wasn't going to argue that point. I didn't ask for special treatment but I did love having Larry as a boss. TR getting the job was my worst nightmare, but it's working out much better than expected.

I mentioned this conversation to work-friend Nancy at our extremely long lunch today and she said, "It's one thing to be teacher's pet because he knows your mom and another because you do good work."

You might think, unreconstructed overachiever that I am (wait, I'm actually a reconstructed overachiever, but whatever), that I was always teacher's pet. Not at all. My teachers mostly loved me, though a few found me troublesome. But even my admirers considered my conduct to be an issue. I only got an 'A' in conduct once. I never got an 'A' in attendance (blame Jewish holidays and an indulgent mother). I was eager and interested but I wasn't particularly well-behaved. I had lots to say and not very much self-control. Not a real problem if you kept me occupied, and I was lucky enough to have teachers who did , but I was certainly a lot of work. That's why I was never considered myself a pet. Who knows what the teachers' thought.

Anyway, I didn't argue with Danielle because she's probably right. Then we talked about how to get TR to delegate more work to us and the rest of the division. I think, between the two of us, we can get him to do a better job. He wants to do better but he needs help.

I didn't go out on Saturday, but I did finish knitting my hat. The cables are all wrong but it still looks ok. The problem is that it's way too big. I put it in the dryer (which is a crime against wool), but it didn't shrink enough. If I'm brave, I'll try again.

Sunday was watching football (so, so sad) and swing dancing. Dancing was fun, though no one asked me out—can you believe it??? I danced with one guy that was so good and lead me so quickly that I was literally tripping over my own feet. I was lazy and didn't wear proper dance shoes with the slick soles, but I don't think I can blame my klutziness on that. He was kind and thanked me for the dance but I knew I wasn't getting a second ask. Oh well! (The good news is that I signed up for dance lessons for first time in a long time.)

We're sure to get out early tomorrow but I probably won't post (famous last words). I'm doing this volunteer thing in the evening that I've done before and that can make me crazy. It's preparing lots of food for Thanksgiving (everything but the turkey). Usually, I've worked at one of the food prep tables and felt like everyone else was doing the job wrong. I always, always, refrained from telling others how to mix, chop or slice but at least one year a tablemate was not so considerate and decided to give all of us slicing lessons. That about pushed me to the edge. Another year, we were provided with dull knives and tough vegetables, which drove me to distraction.

This year, because I signed up late, my only options were "cole slaw" (another chopping nightmare with dull knives!) or "kitchen runner." I chose the latter. It could be awful but I think maybe not—I'll be so busy I won't have time to be annoyed. Plus, it will be appropriate for people to tell me where to go and what to do. And I'll have to run around and find things. I'm good a finding things. It will be hot and messy, though, but so are all the other jobs.

The point is, I'm doing something and it's only for a couple of hours. I can tolerate anything for a couple of hours.

If I don't talk to you before, Happy Thanksgiving!

Grateful for: my good teachers.

Farce

I don't think I've mentioned kickball for a while. As you may recall, I hate kickball. Yet, I've joined a team for the late summer. I'll miss the first two games due to the Israel trip but oh well.

The main reason I'm on a kickball team is that I mentioned kickball to work friend, Nina, in passing and she got very excited. I told her if she wanted to do it, I'd do it with her.

The other reason is that Nina mentioned kickball to Sailor and he was also interested.

I also mentioned it to my new officemate, Pete, who was on a kickball team. He invited us to join the new team his housemate is organizing.

We all signed up. So far, so good.

Pete's housemate sent an email suggesting a pre-season happy hour for last night. I wasn't sure if I'd make it, since I'm trying to get things done around the house. Nina emailed yesterday and told me she was going. In fact, Sailor had emailed her about going. He asked her, she asked me, and we all went.

Farce!

More farcical is that when we got to the happy hour location, it wasn't there. Closed, apparently. I called Pete, who was meeting us later, and let him know. We met Pete as we were walking to another bar and the four of us went for a drink and some dinner.

Again, so far, so good. I'm a little leery of Sailor by now because he didn't follow up on the baseball game (he's going, but I had to confirm). He may be fine with being friends, but that's it. I'm slightly mystified because we get along extremely well.

We found ourselves at a very crowded downtown place. It was tough to talk in more than pairs, so while we stood at the bar waiting for drinks, I talked to Sailor and Nina talked to Pete. Later, when we sat down to eat, I talked to Pete and Nina talked to Sailor.

And, during the time I was talking to Pete, I overheard a snippet of conversation between Nina and Sailor. Nina said, "Oh, so how often do you go?"

"Probably we see each other every two weeks or so."

"What does she do?"

"She's in [inaudible] practice up there…"

I couldn't join their conversation and I had to go back to paying attention to Pete but I finally figured out what the problem with Sailor is: he has a girlfriend in NY. Story of my life! No, really, it is. Tom, my grad school boyfriend, had a girlfriend in NY. A guy I made out with in Ann Arbor had a girlfriend in NY. Well, that's all I can think of, but still! It's a horrible, horrible pattern.

Ok, maybe not a horrible pattern, but certainly a good explanation. And while he's still lame for not getting back to me about the baseball game and not managing to let me know he had a girlfriend (super lame!), this knowledge leaves me feeling relieved. I've decided he didn't tell me because he wants to be friends but things got terribly awkward and he didn't want to lead me on because he sort of likes me too…or something like that.

It crossed my mind to subtly give him a hard time about it—but I won't. Not just because I can't figure out something clever, but because I don't want to be mean.

It's frustrating that he's not available, though, because we are entirely on the same wavelength and that's rare. Also, he's incredibly smart. Way smarter than average. He is quick and sharp and doesn't miss anything. His interactions with Pete made this very clear. Pete is plenty smart but extremely earnest. Subtle humor is lost on him.

For example, Nina asked Pete, "So why did you want to work for [our federal agency]?"

"I just loved the mission statement!"

Sailor said, "Really? What did you like about it? I wrote it."

Pete gives Sailor a blank look but keeps smiling. "I can't remember, but I loved it!"

I said to Sailor, "Oh, c'mon, you haven't been working at [our agency] that long either!"

He said, "Oh, I wrote it before I started working there."

All I'm saying is that we would make a great comedy team.

When Pete stepped away, I said to Sailor, "You can't do that deadpan humor with Pete, he doesn't get it."

"I noticed! Did you see the look on his face when I made that joke about the mission statement? I'm trying to hold back."

He even has self-awareness! Awesome. Too bad he's lame and coupled.

And, as usual, we're moving on…

Grateful for: knowledge.

Current events

I keep meaning to write about the trial. I thought I'd want to write about it immediately, but, despite my love of the experience, I really needed not to think about it for awhile. Mission accomplished!

What else have I accomplished? I went to a happy hour on Friday and had a good time. Met some folks and talked their ears off, but no complaints on that (so far). On Saturday, I got to see the Mystics' opening game with Dr. J, thanks to Nancy, who gave me her tickets. (I don't think I've thanked her enough, actually.) The seats were great and we enjoyed marvelling at the 7'2" player on the other team. She couldn't move very well, but being that tall and moving at all gives your team an advantage. Their best player was a 5'5" guard, however. Represent! Sadly, the Mystics lost, but they were in it the whole game.

After the game, I was on my own so I went to see Spiderman 3. What can I say? It was pretty and I can't hate Kirsten Dunst, but what was with all the big boy crying? I'm for gender equality but the emotions didn't resonate for me--most women wouldn't cry in these circumstances. Also, the transformation of Peter Parker to a "bad dude" was about the most unconvincing in movie history, which is sad because movie transformations (librarian to hottie; wimp to badass; nerd to superhero) are the bread and butter of screen storytelling--meaning, it's just not that hard to do--and to see it flubbed so completely, well, that was disheartening. Maybe Tobey Maguire's round face is not suited to such a transformation, but there had to be better ways to handle it. All the reviews were right: beautiful effects, lousy storytelling, underused villains and a huge disappointment in comparison to the first two Spiderman movies.

Yesterday marked the first day of a week-long knitting moratorium. I have a ton of projects I'm working on but my shoulder is killing me. Knitting exacerbates it. A lot. I'm forcing myself to take a week off, but I'm not happy about it. I was dosing myself on appropriate pain killers, but I decided I needed some time off from those too, which means my shoulder pretty much aches full time. I think resting it will help. We'll see. I went to physical therapy for this a few months ago and I'm doing the recommended exercises, which should help. It's quite frustrating because my knitting obsession hasn't weakened in the least, but my physical ability to carry on is not there. Apparently, this is a common problem for knitters and the solution is easy: rest. So I'm resting, dammit.

I'm getting to work on the posts about jury duty soon. Tomorrow! Maybe. And, also, I'm getting back to work-work, which is plenty busy (good) and not weird and awkward at all (relief).

Grateful for: time.

Ack!

That last post was kind of depressing so let's move on to happier, or at least more amusing, topics.

Last night, I went to a blogger happy hour. (Why are the happy hours always scheduled the same week? Why?) It was a small but convivial group. I was a little out of it--yesterday was a day of minor discoordination. I spilled things, though not usually on myself. I went to the gym but only did the most rudimentary of work-outs before I decided I didn't feel great and better stop before I hurt myself. At the bar, I tried to order a $19 beer! Luckily, the waiter called the price to my attention AND directed me to something similar, but more reasonably ($5) priced. Turned out to be a great choice and a beer I'd happily drink again. But, boy, did I feel foolish.

After I'd been sitting with our small group (six total) for about half an hour, a seventh person arrived. A person I've met before. A person I've dated before. A person I've dated who I've written about on this here blog. Yikes.

I recognized him immediately, but he didn't seem to notice me. My heart was racing and I didn't know what to do. I never told him about the blog. What in the world had I written about him? Anything terrible? I wasn't sure, but some of it was certainly not flattering (my mixed feelings were on full display). After a minute or two, he still hadn't recognized me. I grabbed my phone, excused myself and moved quickly in the direction of the rest rooms.

I called Pele and explained the situation. She said, "Oh no! You can't go back."

I said, "I have to go back, I left all my stuff at the table. I'm really not having a good day."

"No. But it can't get any worse."

"I sure hope not."

I went back to the table. When I sat down, I looked at the person in question. He met my gaze and gave me a nod. I nodded back. And that was it. We didn't try to talk. We were seated relatively far away from each other so it didn't raise any eyebrows. I have zero hard feelings towards this guy. If anyone is at fault, it's me.  (Guy in question--if you're reading this, please accept my apologies and know that I'm fine with saying hi and making polite conversation if we run into each other again.)

Last amusing note. On the way home from the happy hour, my mom called. I told her what happened and she said, "You dated someone you met at a blogger happy hour and wrote about him on your blog?"

"Um, no. I'm not STUPID."

"Smart people do stupid things."

"No, I figured that one out as soon as I started meeting people via the blog. I never, ever write about dating anyone I meet via the blog--except in glowing terms."

We laughed and moved on to other topics.

Today is better, though I almost bit it on my bike ride to work today. My clumsiness is a little out of control. But I'm sure that will get better too...

Grateful for: friends.

So happy

If you haven't read this week or the damn feed is broken again, I posted twice yesterday but back-dated one entry. You may have missed something very exciting--if you find reviews of tv shows or stories about knitting exciting. I should have added in the post about knitting that this WON'T ever be a knitting blog. There are many very good ones out there and if I ever manage to knit so much as a scarf that will be a cold day...so we'll stick with dating for the foreseeable future.

Last night, I went to what I think of as the "other" blogger happy hour. Open to bloggers and non-bloggers alike, this group is less formal than the meetup group. The social chair for a long time was Kathryn, but she passed the baton to I-66 and this month there were some new hosts: Kassy, ArJewTino, VK, and Roosh.

I attended with some ambivalence. The venue was The Front Page, a place I've avoided consistently for the last many years because my crazy alcoholic ex-boyfriend worked there. When I arrived, I entered with some trepidation. However, no crazy alcoholic ex was spotted, so crisis averted.

However, I still hate The Front Page. It was loud, crowded and filled with stripedy-shirt wearing, over-cologned young men and wrap-dress wearing, dangerous handbag wielding young women. And did I mention that it was loud?

I ran in to ArJew outside the front door and we eventually discovered the other bloggers. Can't speak to turnout since I planted myself by a rail and stayed there the rest of the evening--let them come to me, I say. I also did not pay for a single drink, first thanks to ArJew (thanks!) and later thanks to Good at Drinking and his non-blogger friend, Scott (thanks!).

Kassy was a fine hostess and introduced me to a few familiar names (if not faces)...Freckled K, Good at Drinking and a few more whose names now escape me.

Oh, and this one guy who commented on my rowing posts introduced himself--Jessie, I believe. He coaches rowing and we had a good talk. That was very cool. He said, "She's the rower, I have to meet her!" It's nice to be known for something other than dating.

A fellow standing near the jukebox on the other side of a pole from me said, "Are you a friend of Kassy's?"

I said, "I guess so. I mean, I've met her a couple of times."

"Are you a blogger?"

"Oh. Yes. You?"

He said yes and I could swear he called himself "Ribit," but it really seemed unlikely. Perhaps Kristin knows because I saw her talking to him later. She took up a spot next to me, against the same rail. Even though we didn't talk much, it felt like solidarity.

My conversation with VK consisted of him telling me Dook would go further in the tourney than Carolina. That's just sad. I'll tell you what Carolina has that Dook doesn't: a bench deeper than any other team in the ACC. It will serve them well come tourney time.

Also, much to my frustration, they didn't put on the Carolina-GA Tech game.

Around then, I decided it was time to go home. LMNtal informs me I missed the good dancing. Isn't that always the way? I have no regrets, however, because I got a full night's sleep, which is essential if I'm ever going to get any work done today.

Grateful for: getting out.

Trivia

Today, I participated in a trivia contest sponsored by another office here at work. The contest is kind of a big deal, though only pride is at stake. This is the fourth year I've played and I was worried for a while that I wouldn't be able to answer any questions. I redeemed myself down the stretch with such answers as "Sergeant Preston," "King Vidor".

Last night, at my first happy hour, which turned out to be a dinner--a much larger and more expensive dinner than I'd anticipated--I met a fellow who was going to be on my trivia team. "Imesh" is young, good-looking and has a dry wit. He asked me what to expect and I filled him in as best I could. One of our companions asked, "So, have you two figured out a strategy for tomorrow?"

Imesh said, "I'm going to ring the bell and Jamy will answer the questions."

I laughed and said, "You know there are going to be three other people on the team."

He said, "They can ring the bell too."

He turned out to be the star of our team, which didn't surprise me at all.

I got out of the dinner a little before 9pm and headed to the second blogger happy hour of the week. The crowd was smallish, very friendly and only I-66 and I were there both nights. We really need to space things out better in the future. I won't always be this single and carefree.

I saw a couple of people who I haven't seen for at least five or six months and it was nice to catch up. I got this question, which I'd also gotten the night before, "So, I haven't been reading, what's going on with you?"

I actually answered this time, "Well, I just broke up with my boyfriend, so you have to be nice to me." And he was. Yet another handy use for my circumstances. (Not that this fellow isn't usually nice, but it was still a good line.)

I called another fellow out for de-linking me. I meant it to be funny but he said, "Do you want it sugarcoated or the real story?"

"Um, the real story, of course!!"

He said, "I'm rootin' for you, but, but, I just don't get it! I can't read it! It's too long! I don't understand."

I laughed as he repeated, over and over, "I'm rootin' for you! Really!" I thought, "What is there to understand? Do I not write clearly?"

I told him to stop and finally said, "Look, if you link to me again, I'm DE-LINKING you. So you aren't allowed to link to me anymore!"

He said, "Huh. So, I really can't link to you anymore, can I?"

"Nope."

That was funny.

At the end of the evening, just like Wednesday night, I was left with three charming companions. A bit of symmetry perhaps?

The week shaped up nicely and I'm very pleased. I may stay in tonight, though. Don't want to press my luck.

Grateful for: fun and games.

Drop me a line.

Work it out

The week of many happy hours got off to a good start last night with an excellent turn out for the blogger meetup. (Almost full attendee list on Rob's blog.)

I actually closed out the group at RFD, along with three charming (can I say that, Joe?) companions, who continued drinking without me in Arlington. That's ok, I don't do VA on weeknights. Ha ha.

But when I got home, a little after 11pm, the last thing I wanted to do was sleep. This seems to be a pattern this week. On Sunday, I went to bed before 11pm and slept well. But on Monday night, I couldn't force myself to the bedroom before 1am. Tuesday night, I went to hot yoga, tired myself out, and was asleep before 11pm. But last night, I did not lay my head down until 1:30am and I didn't sleep for some time after that. Tonight, I have at least two happy hours and a moderate amount of drinking ahead of me, which probably means a late night. Except I'm already tired and wouldn't mind taking a nap right now. I know it has something to do with post-break up blues, but I'm so busy ignoring all bad feelings associated with that event, I don't want to examine that hypothesis very closely.

On another front, I'm completely failing to do any work at work. It's truly sad. I'm not busy, but by dint of avoiding ALL of my work, things have piled up and I'm missing vague deadlines like crazy. It's just all so damn boring. I'm so discouraged by the poor quality of everything I have to read and subsequently fix that I don't know how to start.

I have been to a couple of meetings this week where I did a lot of talking and spouted off a bunch of ideas that later on people told me were good and helpful. Nice to know the old brain is still working. If I could do more of that--talking, thinking and brainstorming, I might actually like my job. But this relentless need to edit sub-par reports is mind numbing and dispiriting and I can't figure out how to force myself through it.

Can we blame my workplace malaise on the break up too? Please?

Grateful for: good ideas.

Drop me a line.

This is ridiculous

I just received my FIFTH invitation to a happy hour to be held tomorrow. No, not five invites to the same happy hour; invitations to five different events on the same day.

Before you go thinking I'm actually that popular, only one was a personal invitation. Two were institutional--that is, everyone on a certain list was invited, and I don't even know the organizers. Two of the other ones are also generic, but I do know the people organizing and some of the other probable guests. Also, there are four distinct neighborhoods for these events, making doubling or tripling very challenging.

Here are the happy hours in order of invitation:

• Bloggers (Downtown-ish)
• Friend's birthday (U St.)
• Flexcar promotion (Capitol Hill)
• Rowing (Downtown-ish)
• City Paper "nosh mob" (Adams Morgan)

The last event actually has free food, but there is no way to attend it. Bummer.

My happy hour priority list:

• Friend's birthday
• Bloggers
• Rowing
• Nosh mob
• Flexcar

It's not even clear that I can go to two of these, though I think I can make the blogger get together if I stay at my friend's thing for about an hour. I've gone to her birthday events before and I don't particularly love her other friends. They're fine, we just don't have much to say to each other. If I can get out of there in an hour, I'll still have time for the blogger bash. The blogger things are fun, but I often am too shy to introduce myself to people and end up only talking to folks who I've met before. Maybe if I warm up at the first happy hour, I'll be bold enough to talk to some blog strangers. That's a thought...

A note to the institutional happy hour holders--next time, could you spread it out a little more? Next week is looking very, very open.

Grateful for: happy hours.

Drop me a line.