Sunday, January 15, 2006

Ass Double, Fruit Plate

So about a week ago I met this chap at the climbing wall, and flirting ensued. This doesn't usually happen at the wall; there's some kind of unspoken rule that Thou Shalt Not Hit Upon Others at the Gym, or maybe they just all find me grotesque, who knows. But he's not a regular and hadn't heard about the rule, and surprisingly enough, asked me on a date. I mean, just plain turned to me before he got on a climb and asked me out on a date, like, "Would you like to go on a date with me this week?" This was refreshing because usually when guys "ask me out," it means they face-plant in my lap at 3 a.m. at some party after consuming 87 drinks and a few lines and then think it's a good idea to beg me to scoot off somewhere for a bout of tonsil hockey. Whatever. Unsurprisingly, I"ve had enough of that approach.

Anyway, I found myself getting more and more excited about this date in a way that I hadn't been in ages. He was strapping and gorgeous (more on that later) and seemed reasonably intelligent but in an un-tortured way that was not about being all wrapped up in his own brilliance. He smiled a lot and he was fun.

So we decided to go out Tuesday, and go out we did. Things went smashingly; the chemistry was unbelievable and a way you just can't manufacture if it's not there to begin with, and there was making out and groping and all that good stuff. I saw him the next day and he made me an omelette and arranged little orange slices on a plate for me and we cuddled on the couch and he asked when could we climb again, when could I teach him to snowboard, we should go to Vermont! Etc. etc. All stuff that may have been dubious if said the evening before but somehow just seemed natural, nice and incredibly sweet and optimistic on day two. I was excited in all caps. Men should know that they cannot just throw out the phrase "we should go to Vermont" to a woman and think she won't attach some kind of significance to it, but maybe he didn't get that memo either.

Anyway, the first 10 minutes or so of our tuesday date were spent talking about his upcoming day at work. That day at work, he was performing as an ass double for a Major Motion Picture Star in a movie that's shooting in New York. His ass was chosen above all other 140 asses that interviewed for the close-up shots. And I must say, he truly, truly does have a fantastic ass. And face. And seemingly, decent taste in music, literature and (of course), women, since he had the good sense to ask me out.

I spent all week this week alternately walking around with a shit-eating grin on my face because I had finally, FINALLY met someone that really, really interested me (sure, it was kind of about his ass, but more about the fruit plate) and on top of it this person seemed down to earth, sweet, sensible, smart and not the vain ass you'd expect him to be considering his physical perfection, and pacing around waiting for him to call me already, although we had established early on our mutual distaste for cellphones.

Of course, most people I have talked to about him have urged me to run screaming 300 miles in the opposite direction from this person, because as everyone knows, actors/models/bartenders in New York are vain asses who will melt your heart with their smiles and then ruthlessly break it when you turn your back for five seconds. I see their point, but his actions on Day 2 date convinced me otherwise. I consider myself a decent judge of character and I had no reason not to believe the stuff he was telling me. I mean, there's no reason to talk about Vermont on Day 2 unless you really want to go there, hypothetically at some point in the future if you continue to like each other, right? Maybe I'm naive but if he was an ass, why bother with a damn fruit plate!?

Whatever, the point is, we were supposed to go climbing (this morning) but it didn't happen; post-shoot the cast went out for some bender that lasted until 8 a.m. and completely put him out of commission for the weekend. He texted me at 2:40 this morning to tell me he wouldn't make it. I mean, fine, whatever. This is New York and sometimes you Have to Go Out. I know this. He said in his text he'd call me today. This was a promise he made good on, sort of. He called me (tonight) to say he was a block away from a movie theater and he was five minutes late already. So we basically had a 30 second conversation and he threw out a vague "we should get together later this week...." thing. I don't think he understands that I want to see him again FIVE MINUTES AGO and a vague later this week is probably going to drive me over the edge with anxiety and longing.

Also, I fear I may be getting the slow fade. Ahhh, the slow fade. I've done it a million times, I guess maybe I deserve it. But I feel like shaking him by the shoulders because it really felt real...and I haven't felt that in so long. And that doesn't happen unless it's more or less mutual, right? It doesn't happen very often. Please don't slow fade if there is the potential for something real.

I love that I met someone who made me as excited as he did, but I don't love that it's turned me into a fully neurotic whack job. I hate people like that and I hate what it's doing to me. I hate reading something into every action or non-action of his and I know I need to just calm the fuck down, but I'm really excited about him and getting to know him more and have not been able to accomplish the calming yet. I can't figure out if I totally misread him and he really is more of an ass than just an ass double, or if I'm just freaking out about behavior or lack thereof that means absolutely nothing. After all, there are few people in the world who are as neurotic as I, although I try show this side only to close allies who understand that underneath my neuroses I'm basically sane and not to new boys who make me fruit plates.

I wish I could see into the future so I could either 1) quit hoping or 2) calm down and trust it. I tend to be pessimistic so I think I"m just going to quit hoping. I misjudged. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and allowed myself to dream, and now I'm paying for it. If he really liked me, I would have been sitting in that movie theater right now instead of sitting at home wondering does he like me, does he not like me, like some idiotic 13 year old. Right?

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Good luck with that


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9:17 PM  

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