baby, it's cold outside I was on my way to the library yesterday when a friend called. "Come watch basketball," he said. Damn my weak will, it doesn't matter what time of the day it is, when beer calls, BEER CALLS. 11:30 in the AM, I walked into JP Field's and had the first beer of the day. Hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere, right? We really only went there to watch the UNC game, but ended up staying for Duke and Texas (fucking OSU motherfuckers). It only hit me that I'd spent ALL DAY at a bar when I walked out into the cold night air seven hours later. My judgment appears to be somewhat lacking this semester.
In an instance of serendipity, I ran into Mr. Maine on our way out the door. I met him Thursday night-- definitely one of the best-looking 2Ls. He later told Florida that he wants to take me out for coffee and... ask me to the law school formal??? Damn, boy, we only talked for 15 minutes! Yes, I was laying down the flirt, per usual, but... damn.
I'm turning into Elaine from Seinfeld. Mr. Maine: totally hot. But very metrosexual. Metrosexuality in itself doesn't bother me; I dig the metrosexuals. What does bother me are flouncing hands. Are you tyrannosaurus rex? No? Are you gay, then? No? Then stop with the flouncy-hands. Maybe he was just drunk. Flouncing + hot coffee = dangerous for all parties involved.
I had a date with the Pharmacist tonight, but I rescheduled to Wednesday. Why? There is half an inch of ice on my car, and all kinds of nastiness going on outside. My first Texan instinct was to horde food and gasoline. My second instinct was, "I am not going out in this shit tonight." This only goes to show how much of a wimp I am: It's not like I was driving. Pharm was going to pick me up and take me basically two blocks from my apartment. As far as I'm concerned, though, he can do that on Wednesday when the weather isn't so sucktastic. [As a sidenote, I was very impressed by the Pharmacist's choice of locale for first dateage. Very classy.]
The Boy, as evidenced by the link in the last post, is (unbelievably) still speaking to me. This is simply amazing as, according to Soup, "A real man would have told you to go get fucked." In a way, it makes sense that he's still friendly. Aside from his inherently political nature, people who play games usually assume that everybody else is doing the same thing. My outburst is simply like moving a pawn or a rook. It's only one move among many. This has a distinct disadvantage for me, though, which is that The Boy-- my frustration and dismay aside-- still has me hooked, and will continue to have me hooked indefinitely. There's also the question of, given what I know about The Boy and other women, does any of that apply to me?
From a conversation a few months ago, about a girl who was dicking The Boy around:
"I have three options: 1) Keep on course and change nothing; 2) Ask her how she feels; or 3) Start ignoring her and see how she reacts."
A few days later:
"I think she needs to be ignored for awhile. It will allow her to reflect upon whether she wants the attention or she doesn't."
The Boy doesn't make it easy to walk away. I can't say I'm exactly sad about that.