Hokay. I did something dumb last night. Not Very Dumb, only slightly silly, but now I’m regretting it. There are nights, very few and far between, when I like to go home and look at personals on either Planet Out or Craigslist. (Free is good.) I can admit that here, since we’re all internet junkies, right? And I’ve made excellent real life friends from both places (and met at least one crazy, but hell, that can happen any-damn-where). But I still feel dumb about it, and I’ll tell ya why in a sec.
I went to see Big Fish last night. I remember someone (maybe Em?) said they had been and had cried for the last 30 minutes of it. I thought to myself, Eh, I don’t cry at movies anymore. Or books, really. I must getting old and hard.
Oh, lord. I sobbed. Really. Those great big gulping sobs that are hard to breathe around. Granted, I’d only had three hours sleep, but that wasn’t it. It was just good. Really good. Some part of the movie (the big-ness of the peripheral stories?) kept reminding me of The Princess Bride, with a little less levity and little more Tim Burton-ness. Gawd, I love him. I ran out of kleenex from my pocket and had to use the sock I was knitting. Don’t tell Christy. Sniff.
But the movie, while it was the PERFECT see-alone movie, left me feeling so lonely. I NEVER feel lonely. (Exaggerator that I am, never usually means once every four or five months. Pretty standard marker.) I went to Christy’s house, but we watched Sex and the City, and her boyfriend came over. Both good things, but both exacerbated said situation.
So, driving home, I decided to go to the local gay bar and have a drink. Maybe dance. Sounds good, right? Then I pictured what always happens when I go in alone – I sit at the bar with my 7&seven, smile at everyone, they smile back and I leave, a little embarrassed. Women aren’t easy to talk to. Men? I’ll talk to any man, in any bar, anytime. Women are harder. So I drove home, made myself a 7&San Pellegrino Aranciata (the Trader-Joe’s-shopping version of the drink) and read online ads for fun. Sometimes I like to respond to them. Sometimes I make friends. But last night I posted my own on CL. (Search for yarn, it’s the only one.)
The reason I feel Quite Silly is that now that I’m awake and rested this morning, I’m got a full inbox of sensitive sweet responses and I’m NOT LONELY in the slightest. Have no reason to believe I’ll feel that way again anytime soon. I like being single and I don’t want to change that status right now. Can I call them in four or five months, when the mood strikes again? No? I just feel a little guilty sometimes, as if I should be making the effort to find the One, but the last year and a half of single-dom (never before had) has been bliss.
So now I feel like an ass. One girl I might go on a date with, just ‘cause her note was perfect. If she wants to. That one doesn’t feel weird. But the others, like the one who wrote, “I am currently reading Cash-flow Quadrant by Robert Kawasaki and Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill,” but sounded so good-hearted, what do I do? Definitely NOT go on a date, and I have to write back, but what do I say?
It’s my own stoopid pickle. This is why you don’t post after a tall glass of fancy. And I was so much more excited this morning to read my comments from you all! Those are the ones that matter to me. Erg.
I need to go yarn-shopping now, to make myself feel better. My friend Kira and I are meeting for lunch in the City and I’m going to ImagiKnit for the first time. That might do the trick, no?
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