Monday, December 06, 2010

Once again, the universe supports my instincts

I was hoping to meet some new people at the Chanuka party I went to yesterday. Instead, I ran into a series of men I've already dated. Or not even dated.

First to greet me was a guy I went out with in February 2006. I didn't remember this; he did. He told me, "Wow, it's been four years since we went out! You look terrific! How are you doing?" All in front of his girlfriend.

I felt strange about this, since his tone was a tad beyond friendly -- definitely flirty. And she did not look happy. But I wasn't interested in him then, and I'm not interested in him now, so I said I wanted to check out the buffet and fled.

While I was eating some spicy Moroccan cigars, a pyramid of a man lumbered up to me.

"How are the egg rolls?" he asked.

"A little too spicy for me," I gasped.

"Oh, you don't like spicy? Charif?"

"Not too much," I croaked.

He didn't introduce himself, and since I wasn't too interested, I didn't introduce myself either. Somehow he got onto the topic of Henry Miller's "The Turn of the Screw." Talking about how the silences speak more that the words, and he published a paper on it, in a former career path. I asked what he had been doing before; he said he studied English literature, then Jewish studies, and then became a librarian. The Luftmensh Librarian.

"I think we spoke on the phone before," I said, and told him my name.

"That's right -- I spoke to you the day I went swimming in the ocean, and I didn't feel I'd given you a good sense of my personality because I was tired," he said eagerly, leaning in for a second chance.

"Actually, I thought you did a pretty good job," I said, "and I didn't think we were suited. I'm not the literary person I was in college. I'm much more interested in social work and pop culture."

"You know," he said, "when I was working in Baltimore as a librarian, I always volunteered to help the homeless on my lunch hour."

"That was very kind of you," I said, and took my last bite of koubeh. "I think I"m going to walk around a little now.

Wandering through the rooms, I ran into an acquaintance I know through my friend ET. We spent a lot of time hanging out together. He's very sweet, a little geeky but easy on the eyes, and much too young for me. And he was looking at me very appraisingly.

"Let me be your wingman," I suggested. "Tell me which girls you'd like to meet, and I'll get them to meet you."

He declined. "I'd rather just see who happens by. That's how you and I got to talking."

AAAAAAAAAAAaaagh. Nice, cute, and about 8 years too young. Which he obviously didn't know. He started talking about how he can tell who's into him and who's not; if a girl likes him she'll stay and talk to him, and he knows he can make a move.

"Not always," I said, sprinkling water on the flames of his desire. "Someone could enjoy your conversation and your company, but not be romantically interested." A delicate ballet. I also managed to work my age into the conversation. The event was supposed to be for people aged 21-42, and they were allegedly going to check ID rigorously.

Well, they didn't. There were plenty of men over 42 there. Not sure if there were older women; I doubted it, and expressed that to the Cute Youngun. "Guess I have about 2 years before they'll kick me out of these events," I joked.

CY mentioned he has two cousins around my age who've given up on dating and marriage, which he thinks is a terrible shame. "It's really hard to stay hopeful when you've gotten to this point," I said. "I understand how they feel. Totally."

Apparently CY took his wingman responsibilities seriously; every time a guy came up to say hi to him, he made a point of introducing me. But none of them seemed interested. It is always a mystery to me why some men find me mesmerizing and others are completely indifferent.

I did meet another young cutie. I didn't think he noticed me until he said, "I'm going to check out the other room. Do you think there will be other beautiful women like you in there?"

He is at most 28 -- 12 years my junior. I was flattered, but encouraged him to ask out a gorgeous single girl I know who was also there.

I stayed 2.5 hours, which I felt was a respectable amount of time. On line for the coat check, I recognized Chanuka Party Guy. Every time I tried to catch his eye he looked away, so I knew it was him. I guess he lost interest. No great loss -- he's fairly corpulent, although not as pyramidal as the Luftmensh Librarian. I unfriended him when I got home.

I know CY was working up the nerve to ask me out, but I felt weird about it. He went out with my good friend Miriam, for one thing; and then there's the age difference. But I'll be seeing him at other events. Maybe I should follow up anyway.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

2 comments:

  1. Turn of the Screw was written by Henry James, not Henry Miller

    ReplyDelete
  2. He probably said Henry James and I misremembered when writing up the conversation.

    ReplyDelete