Another One Bites the Dust


Check.

I just scratched another name off the list of ten guys I would be interested in going out with.

This makes number three and boy howdy was he surprised when I dropped the bomb.

It was funny.

I hung out with friends tonight, you know, doing that fellowship thing, even when I’m not eating the pizza, I need to do it–fellowship, that is, not pizza.

And I am really glad I did, I got invited to go swimming at China Beach and try out some body surfing, which is something I have wanted to try for some time now.

Anywho.

Get to the point here.

I wrote my number down and my name, like he doesn’t know it, he’s known me for 10 years, and touched his arm, handed it off and said, something to the effect of:

“Now that you have a tattoo (tattoos being on my ideal list) I can ask you out.  Here’s my number, if you ever want to go out and grab a coffee let me know.  I’m practicing asking guys out and the whole dating thing.”

He fumbled, “Me?”

“Huh?”

“Uh, um, I don’t ah, usually date you know, in the….”

“Yeah, I gotcha, no worries, I’m just practicing,” I said.

And I didn’t even blush.

“Well, you know, maybe we could do a coffee sometime, um, I…”

“No pressure,” I laughed, “don’t feel weird, no weirdness here, heck I even asked out your friend at one point awhile back, don’t feel too special.”

I smiled, “night.”

I turned, unlocked my bicycle and hopped on it, rode off down the road and into the sunset.

Well, it was late, not the proverbial sunset, but the Sunset, where I live.

It was a giddy ride home.

I almost could make a habit of asking guys out, I certainly get a jolt of adrenalin from doing it.

I can tell the answer is no and he won’t be calling and I’m so cool with it, it’s not even funny, I’m just pleased as punch, to continue the lazy use of cliché, that I asked.

Another one-off the list.

Another fantasy squashed.

I really didn’t ever think he would, I never got that vibe from him, but I like him, he’s smart, and he’s very funny.

Two characteristics I am a big fan of.

So.

Next.

Oh.

And the gentleman I called yesterday and called an asshole on his voicemail sent me the no response response, which is basically a no, in a twee little text message this afternoon.

My response, “oh you’re fucking funny.”

And he is.

And the response he gave me was funny.

I can’t wait for the ribbing I’m going to get when I see him next.

Hopefully I’ll be dating someone so I don’t have to listen to his crap for too long.

I am getting to see some funny stuff here with the dating.

Oh.

What else is funny?

OkCupid picked up and re-Tweeted my blog from last night and I got a huge amount of reads off it, which was cool, but I wanted to ask the robot, “did a human read what I wrote, do you know I call your service OkStupid?”

Ha.

Oh.

Good times.

“Breaking up is good for you,” he said to me over a slice of pizza at Pasquale’s in the Inner Sunset, “your writing has been on fire.”

Thanks.

I appreciate that.

I do love to do the writing and if one of the consequences of my break up is better quality blogs, hey, bring it on.

I’m so grateful for this blog, for putting it out there, for not caring, too much, who reads what, for having a forum to dump my day into.

All the goofy stuff that goes through my brain, all the dreams and fantasy, all the angst and anxiety, and the silliness of myself that I get to let go of.

It’s the best and I’ve also become quite a fast typist.

Really, my words per minute is off the hook.

I have to say I am glad for the dating experience, and man it is an experience, a lot of work,  a lot of self-discovery, a lot of letting go of results.

And every time I get the surprised who me, or the tee hee response of someone who isn’t right for me, it makes it a little easier to go onto the next one.

I have complete faith that I am on the right track.

Oh.

I don’t know that I am taking the “right” actions.

I can sit here in my head and debate right and wrong all night long and not take any action whatsoever, because I want to make sure it’s the right one.

Rather.

I’m bumble fucking the hell around and providing myself with some ridiculous life experiences.

Ones I would not have if I was keeping myself to myself all the time.

I have to be willing to look like an ass if I’m going to get anywhere with this thing.

I’m not even feeling rejection from the last two guys, and you know, rejection is God’s protection, I’m just feeling ok, cool, moving on.

And not in a strident kind of way.

Just going with the flow.

Moving on.

Easy like.

I suspect too, that the more action I take, the more results I’m going to get.

I just have to continue to put it out there.

It’s going to be the thing that I don’t think will work, or the guy that I never would have asked out, except that I said I would take someone else’s suggestion.

It’s going to be right when I am left.

Or up when I am down.

Sideways and silly.

I just have to let it all out and do my thing.

Do your thang, do your thang, make my body sing

Let me see you do your thing now

And who knows, maybe some one will ask me out.

Now that would be something.

Just as long as it’s not on Tinder.

I am done with that.

Here’s to making a fool of myself and living through the experience.

To making an ass of myself.

In the best possible way.

For yet another day.

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