I took my mom out to Subway on Mother’s Day for one of those foot long subs for $5. She’s so totally worth it. Well, at least $2.50 worth since I ate the other half.
Afterwards we stopped at my brother’s house. By time we both got home, there was frantic messages on my mom’s answering machine. Evidently my brother thought one of us had taken his car keys. So I called and left a message on his phone. “Hi, this is your sister Witty*. (*that part is reallllly important. OK??). “I just looked and I didn’t take your keys. The last time I saw them was when you were showing me how good your camera focuses on your keys on the kitchen counter. Sorry. Hope you find them. ” I then got this message back on my answering machine. “I don’t know who you are * (see, I told you that was the important part, even though I’m his sister and actually said my name on his machine and described what I had just done with him an hour earlier, but I guess my message was too obtuse and spoken in sub-alien code words). “I’m just returning your message. I guess you must know me. Thanks for calling.”
Anyways, after going to his house, my mom dropped me off at my apartment. I decided to just go to the library across the street to use their computers. They’re way faster than mine and the chairs are a lot more comfortable. So we said our good-byes and I walked across the street and into the driveway, when this car came driving in behind me and, well, crashed into the library. Yup. Just crrraaasshhh! I was startled naturally.
It didn’t exactly crash into the building itself. It crashed into a large metal fire escape in front of the building and tore off the guy’s rear view mirror. When I took a few steps backwards, I saw the guy get out of the car and sit on the stairs with his head between his legs. Was he going to puke? Not really sure. He was only going about 6 MPH. By then a librarian was running towards the scene. I bet you didn’t know librarians could run. Maybe perhaps only when cars run into their buildings.
Anyways, I went in to look at my e-mails. I was waiting to hear from my sMatch.com guy. We had written back and forth 3-4 times and were set to go out the next day for either lunch or a walk. I was anxious, but hopeful. He seemed nice.
I then opened his e-mail. “Hello witty, Your last message told me a lot about you and I’m left with a sense of incompatibility. However, I wish the best in your search. Jeff. ”
I sat there for a minute, stunned and then started to cry a little. Its not that I had a lot vested in this guy. Just a couple of e-mails. Its just that for a couple of days, I felt hopeful. Like maybe I wasn’t the biggest loser in the universe. Yes. I am sensitive. Very sensitive. Like a person with third degree burns, perhaps. But I’ve never been rejected even before they met me. My god, do I suck that much?
What did I say in my letter? Well, first of all he had asked me a kinda unusual question. Did I like facial hair. He then asked me to look at both of his photos: One with facial hair, one without. Personally, I don’t like facial hair. The only person I was ever friendly with who had whiskers was Married Guy. So when he asked me that, I was thinking, wow, to think I’m holding the future of some guy’s facial hair in my hands. Naturally I got a little angsty and perhaps did a little wittykitty take on the whole thing.
I’m guessing now that when you write to these sMatch.com guys, you have to write like you’re an emotionless Stepford Wife and not someone who might possibly 1) have an opinion 2) have a raucous sense of humor 3) be silly and whimsical. I mean I actually have the word: “Dork” in my ad. How much more specific can I be?
But now I feel defeated even before I started. Sure I’ve been looking at other ads. I even found Handyman, the guy I dated twice in the last couple of years. I wrote him a brief, sarcastic note. He wrote back something decent. Then I wrote back and apologized. I’m just making friends all over the place, it seems.
I just take rejection really, really hard. Especially at this stage in life. I’ve had so many in the last couple of years (some you know, some you don’t know), that, to me, putting your heart out on the line, is about akin to asking someone to put their hand on a hot stove even though they know they’ll get burned. I’ve even been renting romantic movies lately, trying to see “how its done”. I guess the movie “Atonement” perhaps wasn’t such a great idea, since almost everyone dies or is about to die and at least one person feels incredibly guilty.
So yesterday I went to sign some paperwork at Section 8, so that my landlord can raise my rent yet again. I was feeling so poorly that I decided to stop at a small art gallery downtown, that I had never been to. They had this really cool display dedicated to singer Bessie Smith where they have her image projected up on a wall and a Casio keyboard in the middle of the floor that says: “Play me.” How often do you see that? So I gingerly touched the key and each key played a different tiny snippet of Bessie Smith singing a musical note or two. I tried to play various keys to make some kind of tune out of it, you know, since I’m a master musician, but I couldn’t, but it was still a really fun idea.
I then walked one block over to the place where I’m having my supposed one woman art show this summer. Like everything else in my life, I’ve been worried that my show would somehow be yanked out from under me because of something I said or did or wrote, because I’ve been such a bad BAD wittykitty lately. But after buying a brownie and looking around at the space, I actually got to meet the woman I talked to last summer about the show and she’s all set with me coming in….gulp….two weeks earlier than planned.
I’m a little nervous about that since I still don’t have everything framed or with eye-hooks and wire and my depression is so bad, its hard to get started or complete anything. My middle name is Apathy with a capital “A”. Sure yes, I know its a good thing for me to have a show, and I might even sell something, but when you’re getting crushed under a mountain of depression, even leaving the couch seems insurmountable these days.
I’m not sure what made me think I could date someone in this condition.
Anyways, if I can get WordPress to work, this is my latest painting. “Mona is in the House”. I just hope you’re not left with “a sense of incompatibility.”