I’m putting the feelers out again. I’m starting to date again. I’m starting to realize that people who say “You’re not my type” based on a photograph are probably a) not the kind of people I want to date and b) have issues of their own. I’m one of the lucky ones, though – I hardly ever get that response, and I can always blame the beard. Some people just don’t like facial hair.
Anyway, I thought of three funny things today:
1) When Oakland’s hooting walk signs go off and the stylish, student pedestrians crisscross the intersection, one could describe it as a hipster hoedown.
Ok, I led with the weakest one.
2) It’s embarrassing when you pass a homeless dude and he shakes his change cup at you and you ignore him. It’s even more embarrassing when you pass him again coming the other way, holding a large coffee, and he doesn’t shake his change cup at you.
3) My car smells like a homeless barista has been eating barbecue pork sandwiches in the back seat. I can’t explain it.
And I thought of another thing while I was at the Gallery Crawl:
4) The only thing worse than walking through a crowd and talking to your friend who you think is behind you only to see that somebody else is behind you is to be the friend the first friend thought was behind him and watch your friend start talking to the guy you know isn’t the friend he thinks it is.
Anyway, I bring those things up because I was thinking about people to call to tell them those funny things, only to realize that there really wasn’t anybody. I called Lindsay, because she always tells me when something isn’t as funny as I thought it was, thus making those things more funny than they were before. That was enough.
Still, it would be nice to have somebody on speed dial for those kinds of emergencies.
Also, I just thought of something else else that I thought of a few days ago.
5) Have you ever been to a crowded food court? My building has one on its mezzanine level, and it’s always full to bursting with people. There are also an awful lot of chairs and tables, which creates a very narrow lane through which people (like me) can pass. If you go at the right time, right around 12:30, you can have a grand old time standing behind fat people.
I wonder how many potential dates have seen this blog or this website and decided to discontinue correspondence with me? I wonder how my candid discussion of my foibles and my vulnerabilities might affect future involvements. I don’t like to think of all the opportunities missed, because those folks are missing out. Really, they are. See, the only difference between me and somebody else with anxiety disorder and a tendency toward facial hair is that my shit is visible. I have my hidden depths, but they’re not scary. The stuff that people are surprised to find out about me are pleasant little bursts of enlightenment, not dark mysteries uncovered after a bottle of booze.
I am, as I always have been, me. That’s it.
And goddamn it, that should be more than enough for anybody.
It’s not my fault that I’m awesome.