So, the dinner date in which Crazy makes dinner for CG was a success. The food was fab (though we didn't eat dessert), and we were both kind of lame after a long week so decided to stay in. (He brought over movies, and we had a double-feature of It Happened One Night and The Philadelphia Story. As you see, CG likes the old movies.) You might notice that it is 1:04 AM, and I am now blogging, so this means that I have become some newfangled 1950s (or maybe even 1930s-1940s person?) person who sends a boy home at a reasonable hour rather than ... well, you get the picture. But it was fun. We shall see. I think that CG does like me, but I also think that he's very.... hard to read. Yes. That's it.
Only two awkward moments in the evening. Both were caused by the fact that in my flurry of preparation, I forgot to turn the volume off on my answering machine (and yes, I still have an answering machine, not voicemail, which I'm reconsidering as we speak), which meant I had to answer two phone calls rather than just letting the phone ring and go into voice mail. The first, before dinner, was my mother. I could not risk letting her leave a message, for she is a woman of crazy messages. Had I let the machine get it, I'm sure the message would have gone something like the following: "Are you out with that boy again? Where are you? Man-Kittyyyyy! Is your mama neglecting you? Meow!!!! Blah blah blah blah blah! [imagine a 10-minute conversation with herself here] You'd better make time for me tomorrow!" Obviously, I could not let such a message happen. As it was, the conversation was crazy enough, but at least it was brief.
The second call came at 12:10 AM - yeah, that's right - and it was from a person whom I'd told I would call either when I was done with the CG date or we'd just talk this weekend. This person, who shall remain nameless but who knows who he is, is kind of a cockblocking douchebag (and I say that with peevish fondness). A tip to boys who call girls on the phone: if the girl tells you that she's hanging out with somebody else that night, and she tells you either that she will call you when the date is over or that you'll talk over the weekend, do not call the girl up. Of course, I lied about who had called me to CG (though I suppose this wasn't really necessary, as the person who called is not, contrary to what this story might indicate, a booty call, an ex-boyfriend, a possibility, or anything in any related category, though, indeed, he is... well... male), so all was smoothed over and fine, but jesus. In what world do you call somebody up at 12:10 AM when you know they've got a date over for the evening? Just in what world does that happen? Apparently, that happens in Crazy's world. What's even more irritating is that I called this evil phone-caller before beginning this post, and I went into his stupid voicemail. LAME. Yeah, he really needed to talk to me in the middle of the night. Clearly. Saboteur! And so now I am proclaiming from the rooftops his cockblocking douchebagness, which I think he deserves.
On the whole, I think it was actually better that I answered the phone, for not to have done so I think would have made it seem like I had something to hide. (Let's just ignore for the moment that I apparently did think that I had something to hide, as I lied to CG.) Also, who knows what sort of message the cockblocking douchebag might have left? (What's funny is that this reminds me of the movie Singles when Mr. Sensitive Ponytail Man calls up Kyra Sedgwick while she's having sex with Campbell Scott, and she just turns up the tv, which is playing My Three Sons or something to drown out Mr. Sensitive Ponytail Man's voice. That said, nothing of that nature was going on, so I did not have to perform the Sedgwick, but rather could answer the phone unproblematically.) Or if he'd not left a message, that would have looked incredibly fishy, yes? Ugh. But enough of this. It's stupid imaginary drama. So what else?
Well, the Man-Kitty was his usual Man-Whore self. Now he's exhausted and has retired to a quiet dark place beneath the bed.
Also, before beginning this post, I called A. (who was out on a pseudo-date with her Accidental Husband) and I told her my tale of woe. She had her own tale of woe, which involved the AH telling her that he's "intimidated" by her and "scared" of whatever's going on with her and him - interesting in that tonight was a pseudo-date in that they're out at a bar with his friends and her friends and such, and it's not exactly the most daunting of circumstances, so yes, since she's out on this ridiculously lame date, we had a nice long chat.
Ooh! New Order on the iPod Shuffle!
"Up down turn around
please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home!"
Awesome. I love this song. Ooh, and now it's Portishead. Apparently my iPod is all about Songs from Crazy's Past.
I feel like I should write more about the CG date, but I don't know what is appropriate to reveal. I think I've probably revealed all I should reveal, yes? This whole "discretion" business that I've been practicing of late really is not my cup of tea.
Aside: Speaking of Songs from Crazy's Past, Tori Amos's "Winter" just came on. It's like my iPod thinks it's 1991 in the life of Crazy.
I should just go to bed, but A. may call back, as may CD (Cockblocking Douchebag, which might be my best pseudonym I've come up with yet, and yes, this person formerly had a pseudonym, but I think this one fits him better). You know, I've got to say about the CD thing that I'm not really mad at him. I probably should be, but I'm not. He reminds me in many ways of my First Love (like when First Love and I were together, not now, as FL now, while kind of like his old self, is now different to me, maybe because when you know somebody from 15 they do change, whereas CD reminds me of 19-year-old FL, who was a real douchebag in many ways, but for whom I did have a particular fondness), so CD gets a lot of get-out-of-jail-free cards based on the fact that he resembles a version of FL.
You know, I suspect I'll want to take this post down in the morning, but I've kind of got a policy about not taking posts down, so if I post this at all, it will probably stay up. Must consider whether that is wise.
Aside: Now Liz Phair's "Girls! Girls! Girls!" is on. It's TOTALLY 1991 on my iPod. Oh God! And now Radio Free Europe! How does the iPod know to do this? Just how? It is magical!
I suppose this is something that I could write about the date tonight that isn't privileged info. During dinner we listened to Django Reinhardt. It was quite lovely. Oh, and the food came out smashing. The salad was as I described, and the dressing I made was with shallots, salt, pepper, lemon, white wine vinegar, and olive oil. The pasta was exactly as described and LOVELY. Mr. CG had seconds and kept raving about the deliciousness of all. For Crazy is a very good cook. That is one thing that I will brag about with impunity. For it is true.
Aside: Oh god. Now it's Bjork's "Big Time Sensuality." So apparently we've moved to 1993. Jesus. But this is a great fucking song.
Hmmmm.... So other than all of this I had a meeting with a student today that was really great. This was a student who really wasn't ready to be in my upper-level class, but she stuck with it and really was engaged throughout. Her writing still needs work, but today in our meeting, she brought me a draft and it really has moments of great insight. And at the end of the meeting, she said that I was the only professor who's pushed her so hard this semester, and so if she's improved at all it's all due to me. Look, I know that it's not all about me, but that is nice to hear. That's why I try so hard with my students, even when it's not necessarily the norm here. Even when it sometimes means my evaluations are fucked up in ways that they would not be if I stopped pushing so hard. And she thanked me for being so accessible and helpful (which totally contradicts some horrifying comments I've gotten on evals, even though I've not done anything differently with her than I've done with all the rest - it's just that she's come to me for the help). I had another student who thanked me for my class yesterday - and who expressed regret that he's graduating because he won't be able to take another class with me. You know, that crap really does mean something. It means everything. Teaching is so fucking hard - so fucking rewarding, but so fucking hard, too - and to hear that from students - unsolicited - it means so much. It means that the things that I do mean something - maybe not to all of them, but to many of them.
Alright. It's 2:24. Clearly A. is going to go home and make out with AH, and clearly CD thinks I'm pissed at him and won't be calling me back (or he's on the phone with some other girl in his stable of phone-talking girls, or he went to sleep, thinking I'd not call him back, or he's jerking off and can't be bothered, whatever). I should go to bed and stopped being entranced by my iPod (which now is playing "Here Comes the Night" by Van Morrison, which is also a great fucking song - I apparently have a lot of great fucking songs on my iPod).
So for tonight, good night. It was a good night. It will be interesting to see what transpires with Coffee Guy, who is now more than Coffee Guy, but whatever. Perhaps what's most interesting to me about the whole thing with him is that I can't quite figure him out, even as I think I have his number. I also can't quite figure myself out with him. I just don't know. In the past, I'd have said that not knowing meant doomed. Now? Hmmm. Maybe not knowing is just not knowing. Maybe not knowing means there is something that will be known later? Maybe not knowing is ok - not a death sentence.
1 year ago