When I last left you guys…I had just texted Trucker Joe back. Sorry I missed your call. Tuesday sounds great 🙂 So it looked like we were going to the drive in. Date #6. Awesome.
So as days usually do, Tuesday rolled around. I met up with Trucker Joe and we headed to the Drive In. This was the first time he really got to learn about my “Rule Following” tendencies (I casually informed him that he might want to hide his coffee a smidge since being the geek I am…I already read all the FAQs for the Drive In…and bringing in your own shit was a definite no no). Not that I’m above smuggling in chocolate etc. into a regular over-priced theatre but I’m pretty sure the Drive In. Is not a too big to fail situation. And that is when the bag guy sidled on up to my window.
Detour. So here’s the thing of the thing. I don’t like things that touch me unexpectedly. This is my catch phrase. People usually hear it first when they ask me if I like animals. It actually comes up pretty often because for some reason these animals generally can’t sense this. So they touch me unexpectedly. Inappropriately. They migrate towards me. Just Sayin’. This statement however, also applies to boys hitting on me…and that other category. Of guys. Who just like. To talk. To me. Even though I’m weird and awkward so you’d think they wouldn’t want to. But something about my eyes. Or my mannerisms seems to send the message. That I care. And you should continue. Go ahead fella, keep talking, I’m interested.
Back on Track. So the bag guy (aptly nicknamed) hands me a bag for garbage and proceeds to ramble on about Drive In movie related things. Awkward. Speaking of awkward.
Detour. Have I ever mentioned how awkward and spastic I am? Well I’m doing it now. Now I will admit. It’s not all the time. I mean. I can play team sports successfully. And I’m pretty awesome at badminton (don’t judge me, I was at the provincials every year in highschool). But in everyday life. I can be. Pretty fucking clumsy. Mega Love and I used to have a running joke that I was kind of like a big bear. A cute cuddly plush bear. But still. Grizzly stature. Knocking shit over with every movement. And sometimes I swear I can almost hear that sound. That bears make. Like a growl. A little bit like a confused rumble. But also like a Whoopsies Did I just knock that hunter over? *puts bear paws up to mouth* hmmm?
Back On Track. (I swear there is a tie in coming). So yeah. Speaking of awkward. The day before our date. I had been sitting at my desk. Writing or something. And I was leaning back in my chair. When all of a sudden. The back snapped off. I fall back tumbling feet over ass. Awesome. I look around in fear. Alas. I am alone. Nobody saw nobody saw. Fuck me that hurt. My ass. Hit the ground like a rock. Tail bone imprint in the carpet. (here’s the tie in). So that night. While getting ready for my date. Slipping the Red Lacies on. I happen to glance in the mirror. And what should be staring back at me. But the hugest bruise on my ass. Now this probably isn’t really that relevant. To the date. Because *spoiler alert* no red lacies were ever touched. Let alone taken off to reveal the battle scars with a chair and the floor. But sometimes. A story is just too ridiculous not to tell. And I feel it reveals some things about me. Some things you might not otherwise get to see, as readers. So yeah. This is me opening up about how awkward and clumsy awesome I am.
So we park. We get snacks. A chick compliments my dress. And this is where I really start thinking. About Trucker Joe. And Me. And the lack of compliments. And the lack of touching. Like where is the hand holding? Where is the let’s go this way touch on the small of my back? Where is the lean in and whisper? Where is the You look beautiful tonight? Where is the I want to fuck you senseless and do all kinds of ridiculously awesome and delicious things with you? Just Sayin’.
But then it’s back in the truck and we’re watching the movie. Which for reference turns out to be fucking unbelievably hilarious. Like maybe-I-should-roll-up-my-window-because-I’m-concerned-my-endless-laughter-might-annoy-that-carload-next-to-us kind of hilarious. The Other Guys, gets the SSDated seal of approval. For sure. Though I will say this one thing. I find. With certain movies. You have to watch it with someone. Like Anchorman. I watched it once. By myself. And it was…meh. But then Mega Love and I watched it. And I practically died laughing. Not to mention the inside jokes going on forever. The back and forth. The witty banter. Jew eat that cat poop! Jew at that cat poop right now! So yeah. The Other Guys. Awesome Sauce.
It was so good I almost didn’t notice that we were at a sexy drive in movie theatre and not making out. Salt, the 2nd movie, on the other hand. Was not nearly good enough for me not to notice. And it wasn’t even just the wanting to make out. It was the why the fuck aren’t we making out. That really bothered me most. The sitting there. Thinking. Ask him. Say something. What. The. Fuck.
But I didn’t. Say anything that is. Because I’m awkward like that. And nervous. And in keeping with the spirit of “being breezy” this summer…honestly I didn’t want to seem critical. And this silence of mine. And technically his. Since he was giving me no fucking glimpse into what was going on. Kept up back at his place. Watching TV. Just hanging out. No touching. No kissing. No fucking clue.
We chatted. He asked about what schools I’m thinking of applying to. I told him I hadn’t narrowed it down that much yet. I’m still at the which state do I want to live in stage. We looked up some schools. We googled some shit. I showed him some funny videos. We had some chuckles. And eventually. I was like. I gotta go. And so he walked me to my car. And then there was that hug. And the waiting. To make sure I’m all good. And I went home. Confused. A little frustrated. But mostly just stumped. Because we all know my love of rationale. Reasons and explanations. Science and Dating. Basically. I like answers. I like shit settled. I like to know what’s going on. But tonight. Tonight. Tonight. I would go home confused.
Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time
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