Last week, I made a play on a social networking site -- asked out this girl. It's something that I wasn't necessarily proud of, doing it online...and began the subject of the message with "So I Know This Is Weak..." before rolling into whatever it was that I rolled into.
We met at a party maybe ten days ago...long after she first grabbed my eye. There, we rapped...and rapped, and part of her won something in me.
I didn't have her number. That was my first justification. My second...we're on this similar schedule where I only see her once a week, in passing. The third was that with the holidays and our respective holiday jet-setting on the horizon, it was going to be a long time before I would have the opportunity to state my intentions. 2 weeks, maybe more. And in 2 weeks, who knows what kind of person I'll be, or what kind of person I'll feel for. Since I have no patience, and since I have have to come to accept with growing alarm, belief that my time here will either expire prematurely or that every day should be treated as if, I opted for action.
The thing about me...I don't often chase. Gotta be inspired. And I don't know what it takes, but it takes something rare. Obviously, I think I'm fairly hot shit, usually won't even consider going to bat with someone unless they're playing somewhere in the vicinity of the same ballpark.
I don't remember the exact day I sent the message, but there was a gap in her responding. And I started to think things like, wow...maybe not interested. I got to dance with the possibility of denial - which is a healthy thing, someone dealing a blow to this ego every now and again.
...
I was at a bar on Friday night and one of my girls started dangling this line -- she had someone she was going to set me up with. I don't know the rhyme or reason, but in LA, someone is always trying to set me up with someone. And I've turned kind of raw about it. I don't like the idea of people thinking they know me well enough to pair me. Actually, I find it insulting, which I know probably sounds ridiculous...but that's who I am. These days, when someone tells me they have a girl for me, I ask them if they know my resume. Then I go into this rant, questioning if they know the girls I've dated...questioning if they think "the potential" could stack up...questioning if they're prepared to insult the honor of the women of my past. If they haven't given up by the third bullet point, I just keep rolling until they cave. Everyone caves. I could roll 30 deep if I had to.
Anyway, this time, I diffused the set up by claiming I was starting a chase. When I offered that I had done it on Facebook, the entire bar turned on me, like I was some gutless nothing - because that's how the world has been trained to behave. Trained. Fucking mutts. My first response was to get defensive, eyes scanning the accusers. I started to laugh them off, one by one, considering my sources. I let them all tell me how it should have been done, how I should have approached, how I should have chased this girl...because clearly, I'm an amateur. Clearly, I need the advice. Clearly, the block is something I've never been round. Clearly, clearly, clearly.
...
By the time I heard back from the gal, we were both leaving for our respective holiday homes. We agreed on the possibilty of a new year's rendesvous and that was that. And maybe someday, we'll see what's what. And whether it's on Facebook or in person or with a singing choir by my side, what fucking difference does it make? It's about getting someone in front of you. And then, it's about sinking or swimming. In the beginning and middle and end, honestly, it's all a game. Thankfully, I've got game to spare.
Though I tend to not give myself much of a chance these days...due to my constantly growing status as a flight risk -- in life and in the pursuit of love -- I can't help but pay a touch of homage to anyone who has the power to shake my mind...
Lady, for the moment, you got me. I'll give that.
