‘ssup doc?

.

i just had a strange and wonderful evening with my friend flower. wonderful because, well, it’s flower and i like her a lot and hanging out with her is always at least good and usually awesome.

so we went to c’est what this evening for beer because we both needed a drink and that place has stellar beer choices… well at least good ones. volo is actually better.

anyway, i get there and she’s sitting at a table and we hang out and basically it’s all good except there’s this steadily growing table behind us that’s getting louder as it’s getting more filled with folks.

and then the manager or the host or whatever informs this table that they asked for a table for six and that there’s fifteen of them and that this is a problem and they get uppity and he loses the argument and leaves and then they spend like the next ten minutes getting louder and louder about how he’s obnoxious and what kind of bar doesn’t want it’s beer drinking customers actually in the establishment and and and…

[in their defence he approached rudely, in his? they were assholes]

and i say to flower ‘well i certainly don’t want to listen to their loud assed conversation that’s drowning out mine and she laughs and we discuss leaving and then realise that we’re having fun except for the loud people and we move to the bar.

at the bar there’s a cute young man who appears to be studying lines so i make a comment and pretend to try to read them (cause i’m rude like that you know) and he says he wishes it was lines but it is in fact considerably more boring and is in fact legal transcripts.

.

this is where princess valium stops reading and says ‘dude, he’s a lawyer, run’

.

and then we start chatting and somehow our datebooks come up and we end up in this [there is no way to make this sound fun but it was] playful argument about who has the better datebook and why his is better than mine and and and.

now me i think i’m flirting and i think he’s flirting back and all is going well and flower says ‘why haven’t you given him your business card?’ [out loud where he can hear] and i go ’cause he hasn’t asked for it’ and the conversation goes on for a while and then he gets a call and he has to go.

no big right?

i get up and go to the can and come back and he’s flipping my date book shut [you had to be there, this wasn’t nearly as rude as it sounds] and informs me that he’s left me a treasure to find or some comment like that.

he makes his apologies, tells us we’re fun and that if he didn’t have an appointment he would stay and hang out with us and literally shakes my hand like four times. not hers, just mine.

and foolish me thinks maybe there’s a trail of bread crumbs in my date book or something… and in fact this is what he said on the last page of the year [good thing i started at the end]:

“get a better datebook

– first initial, last name”

um what? what’s with all the flirting and the shaking my hand a million times and telling us you don’t want to leave and leaning into me for half an hour before you go?

i’m so fucking clueless about boys that i cannot tell flirting from random conversation with strangers. in my world we had a fun and challenging conversation where we learned that our brains could spar while our faces smiled… in his i was just some girl at a bar to talk to while he waited for a phone call.

how the fuck do you tell the difference?

and why the fuck would you leave me a note like that? isn’t leaving a girl a note an advancement of flirting? isn’t there supposed to be some like exchange of digits or something?

.

what’s actually ironic about this?

i know his name and what he does and remember his firm name enough to recognize it and in less than one minute flat i could actually find his info.

in fact i wonder if it takes that long.

jeopardy music plays

*googles his name and lawyer and toronto…*

*gets a million people*

*puts his name in quotes*

*spots him, first and second in google*

*checks watch*

yup, less than a minute.

i think that makes it more strange not less.

.

was i supposed to have to google him? isn’t that stalking?

.

funny, i think if he found my blog and commented that wouldn’t weird me out… but emailing him at work is weird as fuck.  why is that i wonder…

.

don’t misunderstand, this incident in and of itself is meaningless, it’s a near miss in a bar.

nobody cares.

it’s just that when you put it on top of this near miss and that near miss and the other near miss and the married and taken men who chase me and the single ones who run the other way?

it starts to make a lady feel like she has no idea what flirting is… and when a lady doesn’t know how to flirt how on earth is she supposed to have fun with the opposite sex?

and frankly? the opposite sex is a HELL OF A LOT OF FUN.

i just don’t understand the game anymore, i wonder if i ever did or if i always sucked at it but because we were all so young we dated anyway.

i know i’m not supposed to let it get to me and i know it’s all about living the good life i have and i have everything i need and yet… it gets to me.