Stream of Unconscious

Often I wake in the middle of the night with thoughts and visions that must be written. A lot of it may seem like mere rambling, but I am a born writer; I need to see what happens to my words once they stare back at me from the pages of my computer screen. Since I am ususally more than half-asleep when this happens, I jokingly entitled the original document: "Stream of Unconscious." Now that I am finally starting to publish in a blog (as so many people have suggested I should do!), I thought the title remained appropriate.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Roses Are Red... And So Is That Wine I Like.

I bought a bottle of wine today, to celebrate Valentine's Day, and the tax return that was so much more than I thought it would be. To most people, it is probably a minuscule amount of money, but I honestly feel like I have just won the lottery. I have been describing the emotion as "Christmas without the family drama."

I have learned, in the past few years of near poverty, to appreciate every dollar. It is one of those mysterious mixes of joy and despair, I suppose, that brings you to that place. When we are at our worst, it seems that we learn what is truly important to us. This has certainly been true in my life of late.

Anyway, it took me at least twenty minutes and a box cutter to open said bottle, not to mention the time I stood in line at Target, waiting to purchase a corkscrew that I later discovered I did not need. Apparently this particular wine has a screw-off lid. And yes, it still took me twenty minutes to open.

I would have just gone back to Walmart for the corkscrew, but the chances of coming into contact with another awkward situation were too great. I had been standing in the card aisle, trying to find something witty and generic for a co-worker's belated birthday, whom I suspect is interested, but the feeling is just not mutual... but that's a story for another time.

Back to my Walmart adventure. There was a guy next to me; tall, baseball cap, also looking at cards, and I made simple small talk about how the card writers must be running out of ideas, because the majority of them were severely lacking. I do not consider this to be a flirtatious interaction, but I know some guys who would disagree with me, and have called me a flirt just because I have a decent rapport with people I have just met.

All this to say, I eventually sighed, grabbed a card, and started to leave with what would have been my parting comment: "I guess I'll just have to go with the generic alcoholic joke card..." to which his response was, "What would I have to do to get your number?"

Interesting follow-up. I'm sure I froze in my tracks, with that homeschooler-in-the-headlights look, my mind racing to form a witty comeback or just find a way out, while he stumbled and rushed through the next few set of questions, including: "I thought people were supposed to be with the ones they loved on Valentine's Day?" (this smelt of a practiced pick-up line), "Where's your man? Do you not have anyone? What are you doing tonight? Would you want to go somewhere?" etc.

Most people resort to "fight or flight" in the midst of a threatening situation involving their pure survival. For me, all it takes is an awkward moment, such as: "Can I have your number?" and I typically bolt. I'm pretty sure I resorted to the dreadful phrase: "I'm just not looking for someone right now..." which really means: "We're in Walmart and I feel awkward, so my default is no..." but to him was probably translated: "I'm another woman rejecting you. Not in a million years would I consent to giving the likes of you my phone number." It wasn't true, but there's no changing the past.

Oh, dear. At this rate, I will see many, many more solitary Valentine's Days. Poor fellow. I should have just told him the truth, that I'm nuts and he has no idea what he's getting into by asking me out for a drink, especially on Valentine's Day. It is a bad idea for oh, so many reasons, such as I have no alcohol tolerance, and despite my best efforts, I'm not that great a kisser. But I didn't think of it in time. It was truly nothing against him. He seemed like a nice guy with a good sense of humor, if a little too forward when nervous... I just have an extremely low tolerance for awkward situations, and that definitely qualified.

I've done pretty well today, considering. And by that I mean I haven't cried yet. My mother, just last night, begged me to sign up for, as if I've got just one chance and it's fading fast. I don't have anything against the website, or those who choose to use it, but I'm just not ready for that. I believe I am an odd mix of woman and child, still. I often feel weary in a way that has come much too soon for my age, and yet my outlook and experience mirror that of someone who has not yet seen much of life. What is to become of me, I have no way to know, and I have failed time and again in my attempt to explain myself to others.

I have been recently asked about my "type of guy" and I have come to the scary realization that I do not have any idea what that might be. Perhaps, despite my best efforts of self-analysation, I do not know myself well enough to be able to answer that question. I may not be as alone as I feel... it seems there are many 20-something singles out there who could echo these same ponderings of mine...

I wish a Happy Valentine's Day to all, but especially to those of us who are genuinely lost in the questions. And for those of us who aren't having nice dinners or receiving red roses from a special someone tonight, here's a toast to the awkward moments that define our days...!

1 comment:

Scott Perry said...

Well, I dunno about flirt, but you do come across as the type to not be mean about it, when a guy asks for your number that is.