[Disclaimer: This is a humorous recount of a real life event , from my perspective. So “speaking as a completely objective third-party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter…” this is exactly how everything happened. Also, I checked with the person in question and he was totally OK with me posting this]
At this point, we know each other well enough that I don’t need to apologize for the gap between posts. I honestly think that it makes you appreciate me a little bit more. If you really think about it, I’m not that funny but because I post sparingly, it increases the hilarity factor. Although this time I have a legitimate excuse, besides the ever-present writer’s block and lack of inspiration.
I moved (back) to Atlanta. I’ve been wrapped up in moving cross-country (for the second time in less than a year) and haven’t had much time to do anything else but worry about my bank account situation.
That also means that my life is going to be infinitely more boring and I’m not even sure what I’ll have to write about now. Los Angeles was the inspiration for documenting my awkward adventures and there were plenty to be had. But I’m not sure Atlanta will be able to provide the same backdrop (Although it’s already inspired me to write my new post about weaves. Coming soon, which we know may mean next week or in 3 months). Regardless, I promise to do my best but I really think that from now on my blog posts might consist of extremely detailed recaps of “Married At First Sight” episodes. That show is a fascinating train wreck packaged as a “social experiment”. Every time they say that, this is my answer….
Anyways! Before you join me in saying goodbye to L.A for good, let’s dive in to my last great (awkward) adventure there: exclusively dating someone (GASP).
I know, I know but now that I’ve been properly interrogated by my family and am emotionally removed from the situation, I figured I would share my experience with the Internet. Plus it might help a fellow awkward girl out there.
So without further ado, I present the first post in the “M series” (if Hollywood can drag out a 270ish pages story and make 2 movies, I can certainly write a few blog posts about a relatively short “relationship”. And yes that was a thinly veiled reference to Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1. So unnecessary and IMO, the movie was wack)
Part I: “Who knew lunch could be such a confusing meal?”
M. and I had a meet cute. He was on business in my building and taking his lunch break. We both walked toward the same table. I really thought about telling him to get lost because it was MY table. (This table had the perfect amount of shade and sun exposure. Plus, I’m actually not that friendly to strangers) But against my natural instincts, I told him that we could share the table since all of the other ones were occupied. That led to an almost 2 hour long conversation during which I learned that this man had terrible taste in sports teams. He was a Lakers fan, had played football at USC and bet against the Patriots in the Super Bowl.
I know Tom, I know.
Clearly, we were off to a rocky start. When I got up to leave (around 13:45, I remembered that I had more work to pretend to do for that day), he handed me a card with his cell phone number and e-mail and told me to contact him. Now, I’m not the best at reading people’s interest (I’ve been on a few dates and didn’t know they were dates), so I thought “Cool. You just made a new friend. Having a lunch buddy means you won’t spend an entire hour playing Dots.”
So naturally, I emailed him to say that I was excited to start a lunch buddy-ship. ( Note: if you are shaking your head at my cluelessness, this will not be last time in this series). He probably read that email and thought, “Seriously?!?!”. He responded with “Here’s my cell number (again): XXX-XXX-1234” aka “Take a hint woman!”. Hence began our generation’s version of intimate conversation: texting.
Here’s the thing about inviting someone to lunch (and please comment below and let me know if this is a personal problem), it’s in this grey area so I never know if it’s a friend date or a date date. Breakfast usually is code word for… and dinner is very clearly a date. But lunch? Lunch is iffy. So all I’m saying is that since he was already aware of my ineptitude at reading signals, lunch was most certainly not the best way to go. Especially when you’re dealing with someone who has the subtlety of a brick wall when it comes to flirting and is about as dense.
But alas that’s the route that he chose, so I can’t be blamed for my behavior pre- and during lunch, but that’ll have to be a story for another day since this post is already over 900 words. Aren’t you glad I’m back? 😉