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Five Balls in the Air…..Possibilities for Dating……….or Just Sex……..But Probably Nothing at All

January 26, 2015

1. Lennon Glasses:

The belated sting of the 7th day rejection subsided. I’ve even gone over to his house to watch football. That’s right. I sat on a couch in front of a television with a football game on. It was a bit weird. He put his feet on my lap. I didn’t touch him. He friend-zoned me. Being touchy-feely was too intimate.

I think about him a lot. He’s so smart and funny. He’s honest and direct. He was a good kisser. I kind of wish he hadn’t given up so quickly. So, I decided I’m just going to win him back. He and his roommate were having a bbq. I was invited. I’ll wear something cute, I thought. I’ll show off the legs he liked so much when he met me. I’ll be adorable and smart. His friends will like me. He’ll regret friend-zoning me. 

I brought a combo pack of IPA’s and walked up to the small gathering of older strangers. It was the roommate’s family. Lennon was clean shaven. His hair was neat. He was wearing a worn, vintage Charlie Brown shirt. He was happy to see me. I got a beer and found a spot on the brick steps outside the door and watched and listened to the weird group of people. Lennon alternated between sitting next to me on the steps and flitting around with host duties.

His leg touched mine. His little blue eyes looked at me through those round glasses. He turned to me and told me stories. He put his hand on my stomach when I walked by him, on the way to get another beer.

I still wanted him. Shit.

Someone asked if we were siblings. I said yes.

“Don’t listen to her,” he said, “She’s as sarcastic as I wish I was.”

Later, I asked him, “Do you think we look alike?”

“No, We look like we’re not fucking,” he said.

I laughed out loud, putting my head back and hitting it on the brick wall. He says the weirdest shit.

After a couple of hours, I had to leave to pick up my son from work. I thanked him for inviting me. “I’m glad you came,” he said. He hugged me and said into my ear. “You’re a cool chic.”

“So are you,” I said.

Damn. I don’t like being around someone I have a crush on knowing they don’t feel the same way. I don’t like that feeling. I think I might have to avoid being around him.

Ok, so this one won’t work. Next:

2. The Baton Rouge (BR) Guy:

BR Guy is another Tinder match that actually resulted in a conversation. He’s older and I can’t quite tell by his pictures if I would actually be attracted to him or not. We’ve been having long chat sessions. He’s a theater guy. No, really, like he has a doctorate in theater. So, the conversations tend to be about television and movies. He knows more about directors and producers than I pay attention to. I just like what I like. We took the next big step and had a phone conversation yesterday. He’s easy to talk to and a couple of hours quickly went by. But….I’m not feeling a spark. There’s not much flirting in our conversations and I don’t have that fluttering in my stomach when I see his name on my phone. I’m not dying to meet him.

“You promised to show me around your town,” he said.

“I did? Are you sure you want to do that. It might ruin the whole thing,” I offered.

“That’s not possible,” he attempted.

“Oh, yes. It’s quite possible,” I countered, Lennon fresh in my head.

“Well, we can always return to texting and phone calls,” he conceded.

“Ok,” I said, “I’ll hold you to that.”

So, one day he might pop over the Basin and we’ll do the usual Pamplona–Blue Moon tour and it’ll either work or it won’t.

I think I like the idea of an older boyfriend. Someone settled, confident, maybe. I could be the Z of the situation. The young one. The one that makes him feel young and flattered.

Then again……a theater guy? I don’t know.

3. Daniel

Daniel just broke up with Emily. They were sort of an it-couple within a certain Lafayette clique. She’s a talented musician. Beautiful and vivacious with dark curly hair and a Marilyn Monroe figure. She pulls off a vintage dress like she just walked out of an old fashion magazine. I like watching her dance. She does this understated zydeco-like step that I can’t figure out. Her moves tells you she’s been doing this all her life.

They were cute together. He was the man at her side. Her light was always brighter but he seemed happily there. They danced smoothly together and I remember seeing the way he looked at her and thinking, I want someone to look at me like that.

I’m not sure he even knew who I was until a few weeks ago. I was at the bar writing. He was there with a friend who was getting married. He made some joke about being single and I called him out. “You know I know who your girlfriend is right?”

“Not anymore,” he said. I quickly informed Liz of this hot Lafayette gossip. At one time I thought she had a crush on him. Or at least looked at him as one of the good guys who was taken. Liz knows Emily better than I do. She told me once that Emily thought she was going to “screw up,” the great thing she had with Daniel.

Emily wanted to get married. Maybe have some kids. Daniel didn’t. Supposedly, that was the nail in the coffin.

So now he’s out and about. I saw him at an event a week ago and he hung around me more than usual. When Amy and I met for drinks Wednesday, he was there and joined us. He walked with me to the Moon for the cajun jam. When I walked in with him, I stopped to say hi to a friend. She motioned toward him and looked at me, asking without words, “Is that a thing?”

“No, no…” I quickly said, not wanting the rumor mill putting us together.

We danced a couple of times. I laughed at his bad jokes and he walked me to my car.

“Give me a call when you sleep with Daniel,” Liz joked.

I don’t know why but I find the concept of pursuing Daniel or even the idea that he is pursuing me hysterical. Maybe because he’s a tall, good looking man who knows more people than I do. There’s an element of, why would he pick me when there’s so many cute young girls around?

But mainly because he’s like plutonium right now. Exciting to be around but dangerous. He and Emily were together a long time. He’s still in one-night-stand-rebound mode. I don’t want a piece of that. Not to mention, if I did date him or sleep with him, everyone is that circle would know about it. And if it went to shit, which it would most certainly do……everyone would know about that too. And to Emily I would become the girl who dated her ex only months after they broke up. I like Emily. I think she’s really cool. I don’t want to be that to anybody.

Last night I saw him again at the Moon. He danced with me often, seeking me out a few times. He was very critical of himself when we danced. He kept saying he had “messed up,” or “that was my fault,” when we skipped a beat or missed a step. His manner left me wondering, What the hell she did she do to him. It had a familiar ring to it. The behavior of someone who is accustomed to being knocked down. But I could be wrong. There are always at least five versions to a break up story. For all I know he could be an asshole.

When I left last night, we were walking out together but he got distracted. I kept going. He caught up to me on his bike pulling up next to me and asking, “You always walk home by yourself?”

“No,” I said. He accompanied me to my car.

“I’ll see you around,” I said. He doesn’t even have my phone number.

Maybe I am one of a dozen women he’s flirting with, if that’s what he’s doing. Maybe he’s another feather.

He is awfully cute, though. And so tall.

4. The Foreign Doctorate

This one is more of a long con. I met him months ago at the Moon. I sat next to him on the bench and he asked what language Cedric Watson was singing.

Indian. Doctoral student. Glasses. Sexy, nerdy, foreign thing going on. Just my type. He has a bit of grey in his hair, so he might even be somewhat age appropriate. I’ve seen him a few times more, but I haven’t managed to strike up any real conversation. He was there Wednesday when Daniel walked me to the Moon. He looked hotter than I’d ever seen him. The light blue, oxford button-down he wore set off the color of his skin and his blue black hair. I suggested he come Saturday when a great cajun band was playing. He said he might.

But he wasn’t there Saturday.

Wednesdays are free and the weekends have a steep cover. I usually get in free because the bouncer likes me.

So, I’ll have to wait until next Wednesday and try again. It’s quiet on Wednesdays. The acoustic cajun jam barely rises above the murmur of the crowd. Maybe I’ll be able to talk to him. Maybe he’ll ask for my number and take me to dinner and then make me Indian food at my apartment and then have hot, steamy sex. We’ll fall madly in love with each other and begin a life of education, music, food and traveling. He’ll show me India and we’ll go see the Grand Canyon. We’ll move to California with my daughter Lori and live happily ever after.

That’s exactly how it’s going to happen. I got this one wrapped up. It’s a sure thing.

5. The Serendipitous Italian

I was riding home after work with my son. I picked up my phone for a quick Tinder-house cleaning, the weeding out of the 99.999% of ridiculous profiles. I was swiping away when one of the .001% popped up. A normal. Cute. What the hell, I hit the heart button.

Later, at home I got a “match” notification and a message, “Ciao bella.”

I replied. He was an Italian young man, not too young, stuck in the Lafayette airport on his way back to Milan via Houston. A passing-through Tinder pop-up. This gave me leave to flirt more freely. I mean, he was headed to Milan, so what the hell, right? We chatted for a while. He, bored at the aiport, I, making a salad and putting away laundry.

“What a shame. I won’t get to meet you,” I said.

“Well, if my flight is canceled….,” he hinted.


“Is that a yes hmmm or a no hmmm?” he asked.

“It depends on what you have in mind,” I said. “Despite the medium, I’m not really into a one night stand but I’ll meet you at a bar downtown and have a glass of wine.”

He agreed. If he had to stay overnight, he would take a cab and meet me.

It was pouring outside, hence the delayed flight.

We talked and flirted shamelessly a little longer and I told him to go see the Rothko Chapel in Houston.

After a couple of hours, the flight was back on and he was about to board.

“I’ll be back in a month,” he said. “I’ll hold you to that glass of wine.”

“You got it,” I offered.

“Or, I could meet you at the airport and run away to Milan for a month!” I joked.

“Wow.” he replied, “That would be lovably crazy.”

Lovably crazy. I like the sound of that. I want to be lovably crazy.

You think he will really be back? You think I’ll hear from him again?

6. My Real Lovers: Netflix, Hulu and HBOGo

This is the part in the made-for-tv-lifetime-netflix-original movie where the montage plays. Me, sitting in bed, night after night, my hair wet from a shower, no make-up, a series of sloppy not-even-pajama’s on, popcorn at my side, a glass of wine on the window sill, the little apple remote forever in my hand, pointed to the little magic box, surfing through my netflix/hulu/hbogo options, my iphone resting on the ironing board, sadly silent and inactive.


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