One way is to re-write everything you're about to read, because I was stupid enough to try to spell-check this blog entry before saving it.
Is there some undocumented feature in this blog site's spell-check, such as a Boredom Detector?
Another is to research the shoes of a missed opportunity. Got a bug up my ass about the shoes I wrote about in July -- slides -- and remembered the shoes this girl I met was wearing.
I actually talked to a girl back in November, just a few days after Election Day. Yeah, the 90-10 blowout by my opponent required some decomp. It was at the Interpol concert here in ATL, at the Roxy. Her shoes were sneakers, honest-to-god red canvas and rubber, but the heels were 4 inches, maybe more. They provided the opener to our conversation.
Starting with the shoes, we filled 10 or 15 minutes of our lives with cotton-candy conversation, then she escalated when she confided in me her secret love of the group KISS.
Culture clash. It's hard to argue with their staying power, but KISS's transcendence of the genre was not advanced by their musical talent. My first, and completely suppressed, question "With or without makeup?" seems profound next to the utterance that did make it out of my mouth, "My favorite KISS song was the disco song."
Strike one.
You know you're getting old when you look for reasons NOT to sleep with an attractive woman. Arched eyebrows? Oh, Cruella. Originally from Seattle? Good thing I spent my last 20 on drinks. A nanny? WAY too young. OK, maybe not.
The conversation winding down and all signals apparently transmitting in the wrong code, I said my thanks and told her I hoped to see her around. To which she replied "Oh yeah, like we'll ever meet again." The intensity of her statement took me by surprise. Was she scolding my naivete or expressing pain from an expected, yet undelivered, overture? I'll probably never know.
What I do know is how hard it is to figure out what women want until you take it away.
Another example -- back in 2003 I took a voiceover class. Something I thought might replace IT when I became too expensive to hire.
The lady in question had permanent frown lines, telltales signs of a sad, frustrated life, even though she was several years, maybe ten, my junior. Altogether though she seemed like a sweet person.
It was our final session, and afterwards we all met at a nearby restaurant for our evaluations. Though I had fun at class, I wasn't about to kid myself -- I expected the worst. And it came. I think the teacher said "I'd recommend acting classes if you had some talent to work with."
While we were waiting for the judgment of our potential, we talked about our lives and plans. She wanted to go to New York. I don't remember what I said, certainly it was not offensive. Wanting to try something else was the general bent of my remarks.
When the group finally tired of each other and we were making our way out, It sounded as though she was saying some mean things to me. OK, my parting line "smell ya later!" isn't all that intelligent, but it hardly merited her sarcasm. Funny, she seemed rather nice until then. Was I just a convenient target for her frustrations? Or did I fail to do or say something expected of me?
In neither case did I sense a desire for me on their part, yet their last sentences to me seemed loaded with the pain of something denied. It would be egocentric to suggest they felt entitled to be hit upon just because I'm a man and they are desirable women. Yet I wonder...
