Charming, but single

A journal in dates and drinks


Weekend Update: Sleeping on it

(Note: This is long. Sorry. Treats for people who read all 1700 words and comment!) Friday night I had plans to get all gussied up with The Lawyer and pals because she was in town for some sort of law-related meeting for the day. I’d had a long week and I was feeling generally grumpy, hormonal, emotional and restless. I’d already cried once in the past few days from sheer frustration about nothing really important and a night out with my good friends sounded like just the salve for my wounded spirit. I know what my friends like. And when The Lawyer comes in town, I always chill a bottle of cheap champagne and get guacamole, salsa and other nacho fixins for a pre-dinner cocktail-hour-slash-hair-and-make-up session. A few glasses of mass produced champagne, some serious hair straightening, two black dresses and some heels later, we were off to eat at a new bistro I love with Southern Belle. We’d wanted to have a small girls-only dinner alone for the three of us to catch up about work and life and, most importantly, men and sex. Now, I have to flash back to say that I did invite The Nurse to come meet us after dinner for drinks at a Fancy Downtown Wine Bar, but he declined due to low cash flow. He explained that he was on a tight budget while he waited for his fall student loan to come in and because of his lighter work schedule (he takes summer session finals next week) and that he couldn’t afford the Fancy Downtown Wine Bar. I felt for him because I remember being in school and looking down at my wallet, thinking, “How can I possibly only have $23.12 to live off of until my loan check gets here?” I thought about offering to pay, but decided that might bruise his ego too much. That said, I was pretty hurt. TOO hurt. I explained that a friend was in from out of town and how we were getting dressed up all pretty and he apologized for not going. And I said it was okay because I didn’t want him to feel bad, even though it felt not okay at all. There was a little part of me that was furious – how did he not know how important this was to me? And I could feel the tears of frustration returning and I rushed to the bathroom at work and splashed water on my face and decided that before I let my outrage overtake me, I’d give myself a day or two to calm down. After all, I’d almost flown into a rage earlier in the week when I couldn’t find a Diet Coke at a store – clearly I was in the middle of hormone-induced hell. (As an aside, I don’t normally blame being emotional on my hormones and generally think women who use PMS as a constant excuse for bitchiness are pretty lame, but for various health-related reasons I had a much rougher time than normal this month. I feel much better now, thanksforasking.) Also, I didn’t say, “[Nurse] this is a good friend of mine from college and I’d like you to come be my boyfriend for tonight so that my friends will get to meet you because I think you are fantastic and that they are fantastic and it would be nice if y’all met.” Instead, I said, “Oh, it’s okay! Another time.” And I decided that before I let Irrational Charming take over, I’d at least give it a few days to see if I was still mad. (And I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, because apparently he isn’t a mind reader? Who knew?) But back to dinner. We talked about a lot of things, but my giddiness about my blossoming relationship caused me to gush. A lot. And I’m sure I yapped on about him, as you would expect from someone who is generally over the moon with the person he or she is dating. And I didn’t feel bad about it because I have been in the opposite role many a time with The Lawyer when she was all breathless over some guy and couldn’t be stopped from sharing every detail of his wonderfulness. Sure, we all may gag and roll our eyes, but true friends sit there and listen to you drool about how cute it was when he cradled you while you were watching Rent that time and how cute he is when he smokes a cigarette. (Somewhere in the Best Friend Contract is a clause about listening to about your friends’ new relationships and new men because you know that they will listen about yours, which has a partner clause about breakups and broken hearts and men to hate.) We left the restaurant and headed to the bar, texting people to meet us. In the end, The Banker and Prom Date joined us and we ran into some other friends once we got there. They were arranging our table and we were settling in when The Nurse called. I left the group to stand in the lobby and talk to him. “Heeeello,” he said, sounding so damn cute. “Hi, how are you?” I replied, my voice raising a few octaves to my I-am-swooning-because-you-are-so-damn-cute level. I was hoping he was calling to come meet us. “I have a song stuck in my head,” he said. “Oh? What’s that?” I was confused. He called because he had a song stuck in his head? And then he started singing the most ridiculous version of “Today For You” from Rent, which reminded him of me because we’d watched it together. It was so silly that I wished he was right there because I would have pushed him up against the wall and kissed him full on the lips in front of the Fancy Downtown Wine Bar and God and my friends and the whole damn world. “Toooodaaaay for yoooou, toooomorrow for meeee,” he continued. I could tell his was dancing around being silly. “You’d make a pretty mean drag queen,” I joked. “Maybe you can borrow some of my shoes.” We talked for a few minutes and I decided then in there that The Nurse does like me and that while the relationship was far from ideal right now, the strong physical chemistry we have and the affection we both obviously feel for each other was a good enough combination to at least try to see where this goes. I wished him a good evening (he was heading to his dive bar, where we both could drink all night for the cost of one glass of white wine from Argentina that I drank with glee) and bid him adieu. We sent cute text messages back and forth all night. I had a good time we my friends at the bar and I slowed my drinking to a crawl because it was obvious that The Lawyer was too drunk to drive us home. After several glasses of water and a few hours, I felt fine. “Where is Nurse!” she slurred at me. “He’s at his bar, I told you he wasn’t coming.” “Then we’re going to his bar.” “Oh, no we’re not.” “Why?” “I invited him to come, he didn’t want to and so I’m not going over there. He had his chance to see me tonight and he didn’t take it.” “Are you ashamed of him?” “WHAT?” I was floored when she asked this. I was so far from ashamed of The Nurse. I wanted to run around with him next to me and tell random strangers on the street, “This is The Nurse and he is my boyfriend and he’s a really good kisser.” “Well, are you ashamed of us?” “No, babe, I’m just unsure of our relationship and I’m not ready to bombard him with everyone right now.” And then she went on a tirade about how she never came in town (not totally true) and she was never going to get to meet him and it was unfair. And she tried to grab my phone and send him a text message, saying that she’d explain that it was her and asking if we could meet up with him. “No. Absolutely not.” I tucked my phone in my clutch and set it on my lap. “He’ll think it is cute!” “No, he won’t. He’ll think it is neurotic and weird and we are not doing it. Men do not think that stuff like that is cute.” I shot Prom Date a glance and he nodded in agreement. “We used to do stuff like that back in the day!” “And none of our relationships have ever worked out before.” She was silent. We left several hours later after I was cornered by a man with the hugest ears in the world who talked my normal-sized ears off about school and work and whatever else interested him. He asked for a business card and I apologized for not having one and breathed a sigh of relief when he left. I gathered The Lawyer up and got her to the car. And she slurred the whole way home about not getting to meet The Nurse. And I called him to tell him goodnight and she was yelling in the background about him coming over. “So, what are you doing now?” he asked. “Putting my extremely drunk friend to bed,” I said. “Wanna watch a movie?” “Um, no movie tonight.” And The Lawyer started yelling, “Movie! Watch a movie!” I finally got her home and she put on her pajamas and ate her leftovers from dinner. We talked while snacking and somehow the conversation took a turn back to how upset she was that she hadn’t met The Nurse. “I’m sorry, it just wasn’t the right time,” I said. “Well, I had to hear about him all night, at least you could have introduced us,” she said, with a hint of venom to her voice. I rolled my eyes and went into the bathroom to change into my pajamas. When I came out, she was asleep on the couch. And I didn’t know it then, but she would be gone before I woke up the next morning. It took me awhile to get to sleep that night. I kept thinking about what she’d said. Had I talked about him that much? Had I been unreasonable? Had I acted any different than any of my other friends would act if they were in the midst of a fledgling courtship? Why did she seem so angry about this guy I was clearly starting to adore? I didn’t get the answers just then, but I felt better about it all by the time the sun started peeking through my shades the next morning.



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Charming, but single is 25 26 27(!), lives in the Southern part of the U.S.A. and likes both her drinks and her boys tall. E-mail (listed below) her and she may respond. You can also IM her in AIM/AOL. (If she ever remembers to sign on.)
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Former taglines of this blog: "A Journal in Dates and Drinks" and "A Dateless Journal of Drinking."




Those Particulars
Some Backstory
Memories of the Way We Were
Updates and Towel Snapping
One Year Wrap-Up
Just As She Is
An Open Letter to Myself
After 26 years, she HAS learned something
An Open Letter to the Men Who Message Me Through Match
Sharing a smoke



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