Thursday, June 30, 2005

Tuesday Night Dating

I've strategically placed myself at the bar 30 minutes prior to the scheduled rendezvous time. I prefer to be approached, rather than approach - take time to observe, occupy, own the space. I sit close enough to the door to circumvent excessive aimless wandering. A courtesy to a complete stranger who knows me by face, name and generic 20-something MySpace profile. Why do I subject myself to these situations? In the first place, Bryant Lake is on my list of places never to go on a first date because of the delusory quality of the lighting, which has virtually the same intensifying effect as alcohol on attraction - mix the two together and you've got double trouble. I guess since it's still daylight it's okay. But also, how many horrifying situations do you have to put yourself through before you learn your lesson about going out with someone you don't already know? Ugh. Maybe I should just go home. Or maybe it'll be worth it. The last half-hour before a first date has to be one of the most agonizing things ever - the excitement, the optimism, the possibility...the fear, the dread.

At least the people watching is good. There's a - what? - 9-year-old having a birthday party with her family at the table next to mine. Mom's painted her lips red for the occasion. She's completely aware of how cute she is. She opens up a box to find a whole slew of those "Groovy Girl" dolls and accessories and lets out a dramatic "thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!" Without any responsibility or agenda to back up the sincerity, it sounds strangely artificial. Still, she's just barely still young enough to have it count as adorable. There's a baby sitting in a high chair across the room from me. It's strange to see babies out in bars now that they don't risk asphyxiation from smoke inhalation. She's so cute that I can't help but smile at her. She smiles back and it makes my heart (& uterus, for that matter) ache.

I'm running out of things to write about. Maybe I write because I'm a fidgeter. I couldn't just sit here with nothing to do for half an hour. Should have brought a book...but here he comes...and oh boy.

2 comments:

Blog World said...

Faith is spiritualized imagination.
Henry Ward Beecher- Posters.

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