Saturday November 8th, 2003
Bowling with Jeanine
Today I was invited to go bowling with Dan and some of his co-workers. Since lately I haven't been able to report much, other than the fact that my co-workers have bad taste in DVD's, I welcomed the change of pace. On October 10th I met two girls that work with Dan, Jeanine and Rachel. Both seemed to have no interest in me and Rachel even made a comment to Dan about my pudgy nature that inspired me to start working out again. (Footnote #1) I now found myself sitting next to Jeanine strapping the velcro on my stylish rented bowling shoes still damp from either some aerosol sterilizing agent or the person with the foot sweat problem who wore the shoes before me.
When you're an "attractive impaired" individual you tend to develop an abnormal sensitivity to anything that could possibly be interpreted as a sign of interest. When an individual flirts with someone they find physically attractive they tend to touch them a lot. They might jokingly push them, touch their hand, or simply have some physical contact when they're talking to each other. When someone flirts with someone they find mentally attractive they give more subtle signs, usually consisting of a lot of questions about your life and abnormal politeness. A few questions about where you grew up followed by a comment as subtle as, "Hey Mike I'm going to grab another drink, you want anything?" can quickly have an unattractive man's full attention, especially if he's the only person asked out of a group.
It is perfectly feasible that I have an abnormally bad perception of when someone is showing interest in me. At least that's what I prefer to think since it's better than the thought that no one has had any interest in me since high school. (Footnote #2) Anyway I wasn't really sure if she was interested but I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask her out. (Not to mention I know that if I didn't my in box would fill up with more "You dumbass" e-mails and I'm trying to keep them down to a few dozen a week.) So in the seventh frame of the third game I asked Jeanine what she was doing tomorrow. She rattled off a lengthy list of chores followed by an overly detailed explanation of how she has to go out dancing with her friends because one of them just broke up with her boyfriend. No stranger to the polite fuck off I let it drop with an, "Oh OK."
Rather than turning her attention to one of her friends or an abnormally interesting light fixture like the majority of women I've put in this awkward position, she instead asked me why I asked. I wasn't sure if she was being polite or if there was a chance she might actually be interested. I figured I may have come on a little strong before so I made up some stuff about a group of my friends going out tomorrow. Not that I'm in the habit of being dishonest but I didn't want to sound like I was some desperate dateless loser who's life sucks so bad he has his own website dedicated to-- well I think I made my point.
Trying not to sound like I even cared I asked her if she'd like to do something some other time. She said sure and gave me her number. I'm not about to say my luck has changed or that things are starting to look up because every time I do I either wake up in the hospital or find myself with a couple officers standing over a dead hooker. I'll just say that regardless of what happens with me and Jeanine I think I've come a long way to even be able to talk to her and have enough confidence to ask for her number.
Footnotes:
1. I've been working out at least 3 times a week since Rachel made
her comment about her preference to date someone who was of the "more
athletic type." I weigh myself every time and my weight seems
to fluctuate a bit every time I go but I think I've lost two or three
pounds.
2. This is of course excluding people who supposedly had interest
in me and told me years later. "Hey Mike remember me, I was your
fantasy girl for years and I wanted you so bad. I used to just imagine
letting you do anything you wanted to me. Well that was then and even
though I still look like a swimsuit model I'm married to a shorter
fatter version of you because I grew up eating paint chips under power
lines and my sense of attractiveness is backwards. Anyway hope everything
is good with you and by the way you blew your one chance at true happiness
on that field trip in eighth grade when you crapped your pants at
the zoo."
