I don’t know WHAT the hell’s goin’ on but the past few weeks there’s been a run on fix-ups in Pie Town. Apparently, someone designated it Mommypie Needs A Date month.
Which has led me to declare it Mommypie Is A Stress Case month.
Because Mommypie doesn’t really WANT a date. At least not at this juncture. And you better believe that KILLS my mother.
The first guy is a local attorney, 10 years my senior. I’ve met him a few times before at work functions. Nice enough. He ran for a judge seat last year, and lost. His chosen political party is … not mine. And being older and pickier (meaning that “they like me” is no longer a good enough reason to date someone), all the above could easily be enough to rule him out.
But ACW (Another Co-Worker) mentioned she saw a large tattoo on his lower leg at our recent golf tourney, so, I agreed to meet him for lunch Tuesday. Or Wednesday. I can’t remember, but I wrote it down. And I’m DREADING it. Because, while I don’t want to rule anything out, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time either. I’m going to try to go into it with an open mind. It’s just lunch right? RIGHT??
The other guy is a baseball scout, also about 10 years older than me. Definitely scoring higher on the cool job scale, if that counts for anything. He doesn’t live in this state, but travels here frequently. I have NO idea what he looks like. He’s sent two emails. I sent one, somewhat terse, “nice to meet you” email. He wants to get together later this month when he’s in town. I haven’t answered.
Argh. I AM totally grateful for such wonderful friends who care so much about my happiness. I find it funny that in this case, the two doing the setting up were two GUYS. And I know I’m a little unconventional. But I love the life MP and I have. Just the two of us.
And now, I want to hide. I want to crawl under my desk and hide. Which I’ve actually done on more than one occasion. Just out of college, I was working two jobs to make ends meet — a 9 to 5 job all day while waiting tables all night. I was exhausted. For awhile there, I’d actually crawl under my desk, lie down and sleep when my bosses were at lunch. I kept a pillow in my office and everything. Okay, a seat cushion, but still. Remember the Seinfeld episode where George slept under his desk at work? That was totally me.
Which sounds so much better than a lunch date small talk torture session. Hep me Rhonda.