Friday, August 15, 2008
Dear Bird Man.
So, what am I supposed to do when I'm on my 9th date with the Bird Man--so nicknamed because of his exotic last name, and the shape of his head--at the dollar movie, watching some horrible movie that isn't worth a dollar, and I realize that he's putting his invisible man-feelers out and getting ready to make the moves on me, and that I'd rather die? Obviously, I pull my dress down past my knees, fold my arms, and lean away casually. I kind of just angle my body away from him. Right? You lean away casually and fold your arms. When you fold your arms, your hands are no longer visible. They are by your boobs. So no normal, BYU-attending, baseball-cap-wearing, teeth-whitening, intramural-softball-playing guy is going to dig his hand down in there, across your entire body, into your basic armpit, to grab your hand. Not the guy who took seven dates to get to a half-hearted cuddle. Oh yes, he did. And, as I looked at a drunken Ashton Kutcher on the screen, I thought, "I would rather be holding your slobbery, plastered, untalented hand right now. I would rather be Surgically Attached to your slobbery, plastered, untalented hand right now."
During, and afterwards, I felt like I had just had the moves made on me by a relative. I gulped dryly and was quiet the whole way home to keep myself from throwing up all over the freshly-vacuumed upholstery and snap-on air freshener in his car. We had a little hug, and then I went inside my house and I didn't hear from him for three weeks and I was GLAD and obviously came to the conclusion that he was gulping dryly the whole way home too. No. I check my phone illegally during work Monday night, hoping for a text from someone else, but instead having the privilege of this gem of a textual conversation:
"Hey, I came into Plato's this morning...guess who wasn't there? :)"
-I...don't know? Me? Snap! Good one! And why the smiley face? Are you just ecstatic that I wasn't there and dying to share it with me or what?
"Uh me? Yeah I'm working the afternoon today"
"Oh is that an invitation for me to come visit? :S Sorry Im busy tonight actually.."
-...really? because I was totally wondering. If you were busy tonight. Because I Wanted you to come visit me. Because I Like You. And I love you trying to sensually rub my hand in the dollar movie. With your stubby little fingers.
"No yeah I mean I'm working right now"
"Well what are you up to this weekend ???"
"I'm going on a family trip"
"Oh well we will have to get together when your home!!! I cant believe how long it been since Ive seen you!!!!!!!!!!! Let's go to Seven Peaks we never went!!!!!!!!"
Dear Bird Man,
I have realized that, although we talked for three hours the day we first met, this does not give any allusion to any kind of connection. It just means that we both take approximately 1 1/2 hours to say everything we feel like needs to be said about ourselves to strangers. Or it just means that we were both sick of studying for midterms and found each other the least ugly out of everyone we could find in the Wilk. We are incompatible due to a few points I somehow ignored for two solid months of dating:
a. You like sports. A Lot.
b. After that three-hour conversation back at the end of May, I have had a difficult time coming up with anything to discuss with you. Ever.
c. You are a really, really, really nice guy. And when I say anything sarcastic, you completely misunderstand me.
c. You say "little missy".
d. I sing a lot and it embarrasses you even when there's nobody else around. Why is that embarrassing?
e. You are completely sicked out by the fact that I have more than one gay friend, and, in fact, spend time with them.
But, dear Bird Man, lest I forget, thank you for:
-teaching me how to play canasta
-being really nice and taking me on fun dates to places I haven't appreciated since age seven (i.e., nickelcade) (it really still is fun)
-having shiny teeth
-being my first experience with DSWASA (Dating Someone With A Southern Accent)
-and having a nice blue car to ride in. Love Julie.
at 11:24 PM