maarmie's musings

Saturday, March 19, 2011

DW

I met DW at a party at my friends' house. We spoke only brief introductions before more people arrived, but I thought he was cute and I wanted to talk to him more. Unfortunately, his boss cornered him before I had a chance to get back around and talked shop with him the rest of the time he was there. When I looked for him again, he was gone.

DW turned out to be one of my friend's colleagues, and we hatched a plan to invite him round for the new year celebration so we would have another chance to talk. My friend told me a bit about DW, though, and what I learned probably should have steered me clear to begin with. The stats:

39 years old

History professor

Ph.D.

Published author

(here's where it gets tricky)
Never had a girlfriend

Very close with his mother

When he couldn't make it for new year, friend gave DW my number. He phoned the next day, all excited to meet up. A week later, we met for coffee. He was full of odd questions and revelations, and you could tell he had not done the dating thing much. One of his first questions was to ask how I react when I am angry. Okaaaaaay. Weird. Then he went on to tell me he had not dated much and that he's a selfish asshole - his words.

Unfortunately, he was sometimes awkward, moody, touchy and strained. Even more unfortunately, I loved talking to him - when he wasn't being awkward, moody, touchy or strained. What an interesting person who is obviously well-read and is into great music and can talk about anything. I mean anything.

Such a shame.

Because
he
is
indeed
a
selfish
asshole.

Well, maybe not really. He just obviously was never that into me. Because at the end of the second meeting a week later, he declared that weekdays are out and that he could only meet on Saturdays and only for coffee and only for an hour. He said he had feelings for some girl who didn't even know he was alive and that he'd need to get over that before he could even think about anything - or anyone - else. Plus, he's just plain busy.

Since those two meetings in January, he has phoned me a few times. We had nice chats, a half-hour in length each. At the end of each chat, he would make vague noises about meeting for coffee on Saturday or soon. But it never happened. After all, he's a very important person with a very demanding job and gets interviews with the BBC when he gives a lecture and all. And when he's not going to see this friend in a play or going to visit that person in London, he is just so enmeshed in his teaching and his planning and his researching and his writing that he simply can't be expected to remember that poor, old me even exists.

So. To recap. Met in January. Went out for two coffees in January. A few phone calls in February and March. A couple of texts in March. Have not heard from him at all in at least two months.

My exciting love life.

Next: CF

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

I should write the fucking sequel

I’ve amassed a fair amount of information on this side of the Atlantic now, and I think it’s fair to conclude that, on two continents…and counting, it seems he’s just never going to be that into me.

It’s been exactly one year and one month since C* moved out of the house and exactly one month since I have been legally allowed to file for a divorce in Scotland, and I have recently found myself getting kinda lonely. In my recent quest for some fresh male companionship, I created a profile on plentyoffish.com and have been proactive, as they say, in finding male friendships in other ways.

When you jump in the ocean headfirst, you take the risk of landing on a big pile of jagged rocks, but I don’t really know how to do things any other way and have never been one to sit on the sidelines waiting for something to come along. Perhaps if I did, I would have longer-lasting success. In any event, either I am doing something horribly wrong or three out of four guys are so repulsed by me that they can’t even bring themselves to have an ongoing conversation with me or to, gasp!, hang out. No pressure. No drama.

In an attempt to unburden my burdened psyche, I will be spilling the beans on my unfruitful adventures. I want feedback.