Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

It's everywhere!!!

This weather is ridiculous and a constant reminder of why I abhor winter. On the plus side of unemployment, I have nowhere in particular to be, so unplowed streets hardly affect me.

Shoveling the driveway is a major bitch though but Xen has volunteered to be snowed in with me this weekend and gets to shoveling.

I’m back to my old ways of vegetarianism, which actually feels pretty awesome so far but it leaving me with wicked insomnia. I’m seriously sleeping all day and am awake through all hours of the night. It’s a little inconvenient, but I’m getting stuff done so, whatever works.

Italiano vecchiano is still around and we have plans for V-day.

Help.

I need to get out of this, but haven’t the slightest idea how to do it. He kissed me on two separate occasions and both times left a lot to be desired. The second time his hands were all around the collarbones and that mofo was trying to cop a feel of my lady lumps.

Sigh.

Soon enough, I’ll get sick of him and the truth, or some distorted version of it, will come out. He’s very needy.

He’s 45.

So needy.

So annoying.

Una Notte

Is this Wrong?

I decided to stop being childish and meet up with Signore Italiano. I got to Zaytinya early, and first, due to a bit of over zealousness mixed with nervousness on my part. I originally wanted to check on the reservations and plop down but instead shuffled around and meandered back and forth to the restroom only to receive a text 10 minutes later from Signore telling me to go ahead, sit down, and order a drink. “Hmm”, I thought, “don’t mind if I do”.

I made my way back  to the hostesses’ podium and let them know that part of the party was here and that I would gladly take a seat now. There was a minor hiccup however. Apparently Signore had wanted “fireplace seating”.

Gulp.

How intense and old school romantic.

The hostess informed me that people with earlier reservations were still at their seats and that if I insisted on “fireplace seating” it would take a few minutes later, or I could just skip all the shenanigans and take regular seating. I was tired of standing, tired of waiting, and a little tired of the idea of old school romance. So I eighty-sixed the notion and went for a friendly non-intimidating seat on the main dining floor. I had barely gone through the cocktail list when I glanced up from the menu and saw a wiry balding man staring down at me. I smiled, because I knew that I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into and also because I knew everyone else in the dining area was wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into as well.This was going to be a long night, or so I thought.

He removed his heavily shoulder padded trench coat and folded it onto the back of the chair. The male of the nosy young couple next to us couldn’t help but be in our business. Staring at me, staring at Signore, but more than anything eavesdropping. He was judging and smirking to the nth degree. It was at that moment that I decided that no matter what happened I was going to have a good time.

No.

I decided that we were going to have a great time.

I knew everyone was wondering what I was doing with him. Hell, I had wondered that myself when he showed up. He was not like how I expected, but then again I did not know what to expect. He looked much older than I anticipated. He could’ve passed for 50’s. needless to say, he was not a young looking 40-something, but he seemed very nice. Very paternal. Very scared. I couldn’t be mean to him. I couldn’t embarass him, and I wouldn’t allow him to be embarrassed. The feeling reminded me of when I used to see Tiny Dancer. He was soooo Tiny and it was clear that I was much taller than him, he was aware, but I always acted as if it didn’t bother me. I smiled uncontrollably, and laughed with him as if I were having the time of my life. I wasn’t necessarily but no one had to know that and I feel as if in turn it made him look and feel great.

I forget how the beginning of conversation went with Signore, because it was rather uneventful and unimportant. We ordered, we laughed, we drank, and once I had the vino in me all was well and we chatted about everything from my future life plans to his daughter and ex-wife.

Oh yes.

We went there.

How could I not?

I didn’t tell him that I knew beforehand about his daughter or ex-wife or anything but I somehow just asked about his longest relationships and if he’d ever gotten really serious with anyone, like engaged. I then later asked if he had ever wanted kids … That opened the gates. It’s so interesting the types of questions one asks when they feel they have nothing to lose. I don’t know if I would ever ask someone that I was really into if they wanted to have kids. Not on the first date at least, but this wasn’t under normal circumstances. Sustained.

He didn’t deny it, and in fact admitted that he wasn’t planning on telling me until the second time he saw me, that is, if there was a second time. I chided him and let him know that upfront honesty was the best policy, took a sip of the red, and laughed and laughed. I can only imagine how it looked from the outside. I can only imagine how it looked from the inside. I cannot actually recall because I was as drunk as a skunk. I imagine it looked grand though because as time went on people stared less, the waiters smiled more and Signore’s eyes lit up and twinkled. Everyone was happy and I was pleased.

The night grew late and was coming to a close. Four hours after the initial awkwardness I suggested that we end the night and that I walk over to the metro, Signore insisted to drive me back to my car at the metro.

How preposterous.

It was no where near him and he’d have to practically drive by his house to drop me off and then drive back home. Not to mention, there was a minute issue of me not knowing him from a can of paint and just entering his vehicle perhaps never to be seen again. As we walked out the doors of Zaytinya and I felt the wooziness from the wine and the chill of the cold currents, the proposed car ride sounded better and better. I acquiesced and before I knew it I was getting in his car, but not before he presented me with a single dark red rose.

Old school romance.

Geez.

Not knowing how to deal with such antics, I mumbled something expressing gratitude and looked out the window of the car knowing I was a bit in over my head. If only I could find it. The alcohol was coursing through my veins, and Italiano was caressing and kissing my hand. In case you’ve forgotten, this is still the first “date”. Just reminding you, because for a second I had forgotten. We drove by his house, because he insisted on showing it to me. Don’t worry, we literally drove by it. No stops. No entrance. The ride for the most part was uneventful and he was a gentleman. There was no good night kiss or attempt for one but there was an offer to make me lunch the next day at his house. I accepted, and I’m glad I did. His risotto is fabulous, as well as his selection of Chianti. So we’re two days in and I’ve had dinner and lunch with this man. He feels we have a connection. He can see himself with me. He wants me to meet his daughter. I’m “special”.  He wants to cook with me in order to see how we “work together”. A week from now we are scheduled to cook together.

Liquor is powerful

The Beginning of a Decade

Happy New Year

It’s the first of the year and I for one am glad to see 2009 go. Out with the old, in with the new, and by new I mean a whole new decade. Didn’t even realize it until I heard it this morning on the radio. Time flies.

2 days ago I met up with Random. He’s a total fixer upper. Style wise he reminded me of Gravity, before me. He’s funny, we both have the same sense of humor, so of course I think he’s funny. I found out he’s a college dropout whose major was business. Major red flag, but it was because he ran out of money due to some squabbling with his parents.

I can relate.

Hmmmm.

I suppose I can understand that.

Can I?

Supposedly he and the ‘rents are friends again, and I’m thinking,  ”so are you going to try to go back?” He works as an “engineer” for the Navy. I never knew you could be an engineer with no degree, but this is the second guy that says he is sans diploma. Working for the government is sweet.  Then again what the hell am I saying / who the hell am I judging. I have a degree and I’m unemployed, so maybe he’s smarter / better off than me.

He’s not as good looking as his pics. Again, we run into this. I don’t know, maybe I was spoiled early on. Everyone more or less looked like their pics, but the last two guys are crafty bastards because those “Myspace angles” are vicious. He’s not bad looking just not that great either. And he’s balding … I see thinning near the crown, not to mention he just has this face that screams, “in 20 years I’m going to be bald!” As a consolation, he has a definable chin! Yes, this is the consolation. The date went well, worlds better than with Mr. Boring.A super easy feat honestly, and towards the end we were looking for something to do or a movie to catch, but my neighborhood sucks so everything was closed for the night or permanently … Don’t ask.

At the end of the night, I didn’t really want to kiss him. You know me and my silly rules, but I didn’t really have anything against it either. So I went in for a hug and he went in for a kiss. He has okay lips. Kissing style sucks. Too gentle, but it wasn’t awful. I imagine if babies could French, they’d do it like him. Pressing their lips against yours and ever so timidly trying to stick approximately 1/10 of their tongue past your lips. There are agressive kissers and there are passive ones, he is definitely the latter, but that’s fixable. I think.

Maybe.

He texted me when he got home and I said I had a good time. He copied, and I guess all is well. Not sure when the next date will be, but not horribly concerned with it either. Of course Xen says I should forget about him and not waste my time. Doesn’t he say that about everyone? Is it a waste of time or a lesson learned? Apparently fixer uppers are wastes of time because when you fix them, they get up and leave you. Hmmm, isn’t that what happened with Gravity. Gosh, I wish I had before and after pics, he really was a mess before me. I remember making him throw out clothes. Hideous ill fitting clothes. Acid wash jeans … My God. Random’s entire outfit will be burned one day if we get into a relationship. Burned beyond recognition. Or maybe I won’t care and I’ll leave him as he is. Hmm, I’m too vain and superficial for that. I’d be a little embarassed. Why am I even thinking about this? There’s no second date on the books. Next.

Vecchio Italiano (Read: A.K.A Signore Italiano) gets back on Wednesday and we have reservations on Friday at, where else but, Zaytinya! Am not particularly excited about it, but am not dreading it, anymore, either. I was going to cancel but then I was like “what a the hell?” (Read: said with an Italian accent) Spoke to Douchebag before he went to Sri Lanka (Read: a friend of his is getting married there, but he’s not in the wedding). Mental note: Never ever go to visit him on your own dime! He can fly to Sri Lanka but he can’t come down here or pay for me to go up there. It’s fun to “chat” with him though, for now. He’s becoming embittered by his choice of profession and perhaps realizing that being a physician in the States isn’t all he thought it’d be. His younger brother back home just got a job after having been unemployed for a year and is making more than him. I think I may cut him off in the new year. Honestly, what’s the point anymore? These chats aren’t cost effective mentally, emotionally, or time wise. It’s so funny how things come full circle sometimes. This time last year, I broke up with Douchebag / he decided he needed to “work on himself”. He’s still a work in progress.

The other Tim is weird and flakey. It concerns me that he can’t hold a conversation, even via text, then again he’s a guy, so maybe I’ll cut him some slack. It all depends if he ever calls me. I will not accept a date request from him via text when he has my number. That’s just kind of retarded. I mean he’s had the number for like 2 weeks now. He’s 36! Again, I know that shouldn’t matter, but it would bug me if someone my age did that let alone someone 11 years older. Being socially awkward when you’re young is one thing but being so in your 30’s …

I don’t know.  I just can’t relate.

Window of opportunity is closing.

Bangladeshi is back, I think. I felt bad about just avoiding him. So when he called me out on my disappearing act I acquiesced and said I had been busy and blah blah blah. He was nice enough on our date, a little effeminate and gossipy, but nice.  I just don’t like him in “that way”. I figure we can still hang out though and be friends. I figure it’s better than dodging him and avoiding him. I figure I have nothing to lose. I don’t know if he knows that’s how I feel but that’s the case. Surely, he must have some idea…