What you’re reading now was started at 1:38 PM after a long conversation with Jinx. That’s the nickname chosen by the tatted up nerd I’m meeting for the first time tonight. I’ve decided to write down my initial thoughts to revisit later to see how pre and post Jinx’s compare, and there’s no guarantee any of you will be reading these words.
The gist of Pre-Jinx :
*We just talked about how he doesn’t trust anyone over the age of 35 who hasn’t had to have some form of anti-depressant or anti-anxiety medication. This is his response when I told him I started Lexipro in February when I realized yoga and meditation wouldn’t cut it when dealing with the aftermath of a relationship that ended with state police, guns, and news coverage. He didn’t look down on me for needing medication.
*We discussed our survival plans in the event of a zombie apocalypse. We both already had very detailed plans in place.
*He thinks it’s the coolest thing ever that I’m blogging all of this. Specifically his part.
*Nerds can’t question the authenticity of other nerds. Your personal nerdom isn’t any more real than that of another nerd. Even if that nerd is a girl with a stellar rack.
*He thinks I’m the coolest chick ever because I talked to him on my way home from having my armpit poked by a doctor who diagnosed me with folliculitis. I didn’t even know that exists. I didn’t know I was supposed to store my razors in rubbing alcohol in between uses (Seriously, who does that??). I didn’t realize it would effect one pit and not the other. I described how uncomfortable it was to sit there with someone poking my pit which couldn’t be shaved in three days. I read the directions to the ointment to be used in conjunction with antibiotics out loud to him. It won me brownie points.
*He likes girls who wear glasses. And I totally wear glasses.
It’s 1:53 now, and I have algebraic fuckery to get lost in. I’ll return tonight after meeting him at 7:00 (though, I was at least honest and told him it’ll be closer to 7:15 even though I’ll try to be on time. Let’s face it. I can’t ever make it right on time.) Hopefully, I’ll have made a new friend.
It’s 6:22. I’m running through briefly to tell you I’m pre-gaming with a crisp apple cider from Angry Orchard. In other news, my eyeliner is spot on tonight. That’s always a crap shoot.
12:34 AM. The date lasted just shy of five hours. He took me to The Corner Stable. We sat on the deck and drank our drinks and ate our food and laughed our laughs.
The gist of Post-Jinx :
*He asked more than once if I was separated from him at birth. I wasn’t, but maybe in another parallel universe I was.
*He hates the orange slice in his Blue Moon. I love eating orange slices discarded from Blue Moon drafts.
*He was polite and funny and incredibly, wickedly intelligent. Do I really need to clarify that those are all good things?
*We talked about everything imaginable. The innocence of Taylor Swift. The awesome video of Miley Cyrus singing about her dead blowfish while wearing a unicorn onesie. We discussed the nineties, sci fi, Peter Pan, my love of Wonderland, my Hello Kitty car, comic books, the darkness of the fae, Veruca Salt, my shoes, and on and on. He brought up my shoes. That earned him brownie points.
*He said he loves my candor. He was blown away by my honesty. He asked me questions, and I answered honestly. He loved those answers. So he kept asking them. Most guys think my complete lack of a filter is odd or something. It usually means I’m passed over for more docile females.
*I’ll see him again. It probably isn’t actually a love connection. It’s okay that it’s not a love connection. He’s brilliant, and funny, and charming, and sweet, and wonderful company. He has kind, brown eyes and an easy laugh. These are all things I’m supposed to want more than anything.
But I have residual feelings to deal with. And, though it’s a supposed no-no, knowing I am a serial dater and really upfront and a straight shooter meant he was comfortable asking me about the relationships that led me to it. So I let him know Mr. Yesterday is still very much Mr. In My Head Daily, and that I’m working on that, you know, after the run down of all previous relationships.
“You really are a superhero. Your life is nothing but one fascinating story after another,” he said.
“I don’t wanna be a superhero. You can take my cape if you’d like.”
“No, it definitely looks better on you.”
It was fun and incredibly needed. No pressure. No attempts to grope me. The conversation was captivating, the food was excellent, the view was grand, and the hard cider was ice cold. I couldn’t possibly have asked for anything else. It’s nice to feel like someone values you and your time…