So 80’s Rock Star Hair Guy finally wrote back…on Tuesday. “Oh, I’ve been busy. Flea infestation in my apartment. I’m pretty busy. Maybe we can get together soon. ”
No not me….him! Either that rock star hair out of his eyes or all those pesky fleas on his pant leg. Although he did thoughtfully give me the link to his uber-cool MySpace page which was overloaded with Godzilla art and tributes to William Shatner and Star Trek and notes from babes with enormous boobs.
If you don’t know about MySpace, you can find artwork of naked women with size 54 triple M boobs and 11 inch waists straddling things like space ships. Its cool! And usually women send these to men, I guess suggesting that they themselves might have size 54 triple M boobs and 11″ waists and would like to ride the guy’s space ship. I’m not really sure since I’m not really a neon woman with blinking nipples kind of a gal. But his MySpace was full of these comments from women and he had a survey posted and his dream was to die by being asphyxiated between the jumongous breasts of two women.
Good luck on that!
So I finally set about writing back to the Village Guy, not to be confused with The Village People. I had written about two paragraphs on that when something really incredible happened to me….something that has never happened in my entire life….
I got writer’s block.
That’s like Paris Hilton acting remorseful.
So I just left the letter alone. I wasn’t sure if I was even going to send it. I went out for a long walk on the canal. All the bad voices in my head (not the schizophrenic ones since I don’t have any…just the stupid ones that eat away at my self esteem every day) had an absolute field day. I didn’t even write to “A”. I just later talked to my case manager about it a little. She’s pretty down on computer dating, but she tried to be positive.
The problem was, I just didn’t know what to write about. Him? Me? Us? Didn’t want to scare the poor bastard. Because I have, what I call the “I’m afraid I’m going to fuck up, so I’m not even going to try anything anymore” syndrome. Its just that I’ve had so many major belly flops in recent years that I’ve gotten fearful of taking chances of any kinds (personal, employment, having fun). So I basically just stay home and don’t do anything, with the exception of my art life.
I finally went back to the letter late Tuesday night, I think and was pretty truthful. I told him I gave up Stress in 2002 (code for going on disability) and that I now lived very frugally as an artist. I figure that’s only sort of a half lie. And then I told him about my fabulous life in California, being in movies, shopping in the same stores as Janis Joplin, all sorts of things that would make me sound totally cool. And apparently it worked. Because I got a letter back late Wednesday night after my art class asking me out to lunch….the next day.
The next day? WTF??
As in a mere 12 hours. As in argh! As in I can’t possibly lose 30 pounds, get liposuction, dye my hair, get electrolysis for stray chin hairs, paint my toe nails, possibly shop for a new piece of clothing, do something about this rat’s nest on my head, all in less time it takes to film an episode of “Scrubs”.
So he did give me the option of a Friday lunch, so I chose that.
Yay, more time to be a total neurotic freakcat today!
I even wrote to my gay friend down in NYC for advice today, since I did write “A” again and he said to take a “Chill Pill” and to be “relaxed and happy because guys like that”. “G” said some nice things. I had told him how insecure I was when I went to NYC regarding how I looked clothes-wise and he said I was fine and always looked good. And I guess if a gay man says you look good, than you be lookin’ good.
I then dropped Zue a note. I had been a little snarky with her last night in our class. Of course she was all excited to hear how my date with Rock Star from the 80’s went. And I told her it didn’t. And then she offered to help me “re-write” my ad. I totally scoffed at her and said I had been writing professionally for over 30 years and didn’t need any help. I guess I was a bit of a bitch. I also guess it was because she said she had written to the Village Guy but he took too long to write back which of course, prompted me to haughtily tell her he had written me back immediately.
her: (crickets chirping)
So anyways, she wrote me this kind of strange note today. The first part was okay, about treating myself nicely today so I would be able to relax. But then she had this strange little story about wearing a bangley bracelet and sticking my hand in a jar of nuts and if it for stuck it meant something and if it didn’t it meant something else.
I think it was some Jewish folklore or something, since Zue is Jewish as is ever last one of my friends here. But I wear a lot of bangley hippie bracelets anyways and knowing my luck I’d get my hand stuck in a jar of nuts and then just HOW would I explain THAT to the Village Guy. “Yeah I was grabbing for some nuts but my hand got (cough) stuck in this hole…” so I decided to forego the nuts in the jar thingie!
I did go shopping today, however…Yeah! Me Shopping!! Can you believe it? Me either!! But I only bought some black Capri pants for $7. I looked at shoes since my sandals are broken but I just couldn’t find anything, so I bought some super glue and repaired them. Why? Because they are the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever owned and the fact that I can go hiking in them is a real tribute to like the best sandals ever made in the history of the universe. Of course, I did spray some Febreze on them since they kinda smelled like dead hamsters.
So what is all this about? Subterfuge, my friends. I guess I’m trying not to think about anything. But I keep doing it anyways. Walking into the pizza place tomorrow. Seeing this tall lovely guy who will probably be smiling…at least initially. And then what? Just a hello? The somewhat uncomfortable shoulder-touch hug. A peck on the cheek. I’m not really sure what the upper-crusties do. And then what if he gets his i-Phone out. Do I make a joke about “Beam me up Scotty”?
This, by the way, was the picture I sent him with my e-mail. I think I was channeling “Wuthering Heights: The Elderly Edition”.