Pppttht – trying to be witty and brilliant this morning is not going well. My brain is misfiring more than my poor lawn guy’s old lawnmower. By the way, I still think it’s totally weird that we have a lawn guy. As Husband pointed out, the cost of buying a mower, edger, blower is way more than paying our guy to mow the weeds. And that doesn’t include the couples therapy that we’d need when Husband would or wouldn’t mow the lawn and I would have to and I'd do it badly or run into the side of the house or cut off my leg or something drastic. But having a 'lawn guy' makes me feel like we’re only steps away from the Mayor of Our Street and her “man” that she has over every day including Sundays doing something on her house or to her yard...
Anyway, brain isn’t working because had coffee yesterday when I met a new friend for a chat. And I drank that coffee waaay after the 9am coffee-drinking deadline I have now that I’m old. It meant I was wicked productive yesterday afternoon and then totally wide awake all night worrying about everything. Everything, by the way, includes snake babies and how they’re hatching in my walls, the ongoing headache I have being a brain tumor, the possible heart attack I was having while worrying about the brain tumor and this blind friend-date thing I have today with twenty plus women. The snake babies are nothing I can control. Same goes for the tumors and heart attacks. I blame WebMD for those. This blind friend-date thing is totally my doing. Well, really it's Husbands doing. He’s forcing me to go meet new people, which I am very bad at, so that I'll leave him alone.
Making friends when you’re older is hard. Unless you’re in a set weekly group thing like church or you like the people you work with and hang out after or you bowl or something. Or, like the way I met my new friend from my coffee date; you volunteer at a conference and they ask you back to volunteer the next year because you were awesome (i.e. very loud and very bossy.) If you don't have an thing or group or club, striking up a conversation with someone new is nothing short of awkward.
And, if you read this blog at all, you know I am very good at awkward.
I told Husband I had plenty of friends but he said Facebook and Twitter and the like are not a healthy friendship to have. I hate it when he’s right. Sure there’s some back and forth with folks on social media but reading someone’s posts about women’s reproductive rights or their presidential choice or their reposts from George Takei is not a conversation. Really, it's just like having imaginary friends who sometimes respond to your pithy posts about very big snakes.
Hence my blind friend-date with twenty women who are new to Nashville.
Now I did lots of blind dating before I met Husband. And all of them were awkward. Every. Single. One. There was the guy that swore he was 5’7” on a good day but was clearly 5’5” - obviously not having a good day. There was the guy that kept asking me if I like Sci-Fi this and Sci-Fi that and didn’t listen to a word I said or pay attention to the looooong awkward pauses and my body language that said, “Don’t touch me. Ever.” And then asked me out again anyway. And my favorite, the guy I met at the movies to watch my old boss in The Cooler – where she got naked and we saw all her bits and bobs and watched her have sex on a very, very big movie screen. WICKED AWKWARD! After that display, neither of us could make eye contact, or small talk nor endure a polite silent walk to the car together. We just nodded and walked away.
Heck, even my first blind date with Husband was awkward. He babbled and told embarrassing stories and I babbled and told embarrassing stories and both of us were dorky and awkward about the whole thing. But for some damn reason, we found each other’s stories amusing and the dorky-ness endearing and we got married eight months later.
I don’t see that happening today – the amusing part. I see me bumping into furniture and spilling my drink all over the fancy table. Or getting into a discussion with someone about how the government should stay the hell out of my womb – and then pulling out my phone to show off the picture of my womb. This is bound to be The Erection Story all over again.
Then again, it could go well. I could meet someone like my new friend yesterday; someone who found it funny when I told her about the picture that my uncle sent me of the duck penis after I’d told him I’d watched the owls do it. Someone like my new friend who then told me about this obscure art that is all crystal animal penises and then sat with me in a restaurant not far from the former home of President Andrew Jackson and Googled ‘animal penis art’ just to prove that it existed. As I in turn Googled ‘Wall of Vagina’ to show her it was indeed a thing.
It sure wasn’t first day of school “wanna be my friend” kind of of stuff but was highly entertaining. Maybe today, I’ll meet someone like her…
Not that my new friends all need to be well versed with genitalia - human or otherwise – just that a twisted sense of humor and a Google search is one way to break the ice…
Yeah, there is no way this isn’t going to be awkward.
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me