It's the f-ing weekend
His dad had plans for math homework.
When J was finished it was only about 7:00, but the decision was made and J was left in the house with only me.
I didn't have plans because I lied to the au pair from Spain and told her I didn't feel well. I'm sorry, I suppose, but it's not easy for me to hang out with girls I'm not kindred to simply for the sake of hanging out. I can do it with guys, but not girls.
I was here, at the computer, and he sat opposite me at his computer and with a yell of, "I hate that asshole; dad is such a faggot" he sobbed. His face was set like stone and he blocked the passage of tears and the ones that still hung on his cheeks evaporated quickly. My heart broke first to see him so dissapointed, and then to see him so willfull about not crying.
We sat silently, doing our own thing, for about half an hour until at my suggestion we got big bowls of ice cream and watched a movie (Rush Hour: it made me laugh).
This was last night, and today is better; he greeted me with a "yo yo yo, where the white women at?" this morning, and now he's at tennis.
Today I've been reading "A Theory of Semiotics" because I need to get my brain in gear for graduate school.
The father took me out for a ride today is '69 Jaguar, British racing green, drop-top, and we listened to the Boxer:
"Now I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone - going home. Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me."
If I had to think of two names that I associate with New York it would be Paul Simon and Woody Allen. Hollywood Ending is a good movie, too.
He told me I'm a sixties kind of girl (?), and he thinks it's special that I know how to drive a stick. Whatever. Lot's of people drive sticks, like, Nancy drives a stick, so I'm not the only one. I don't know what I think about my boss.
All my dad taught me to do was drive a 5 speed and throw a football. For some reason he was concerned with me throwing like a girl and he's the biggest pussy I've ever met.
I was always picked for the quarter back when we played pick-up games in the culdesac, until I turned fifteen and suddenly I was a girl who couldn't play with boys. Then I played with boys all the time in college, and now I basically just need my girlfriends.
I talked to Rosemary last night (my best friend in Florida) for the first time in a month or so. She's about to start grad school in Virginia Beach -- a writing program -- but currently she's teaching at an alternative school. One of her students is sixteen and under the legal guardianship of her nineteen-year-old boyfriend. There's a lesson in that.
I think when I grow up I'm going to buy a tiny car. I like little bity cars, and I like the chill of convertibles. I used to not like convertibles, when I had long hair, and I became a fan of sunroofs, like Matilda my Mazda has, but with short hair I don't mind. But I'm still letting my hair grow out so it is long for my wedding pictures. By thirty I should be married and my hair should be nice and long, and then it's lose the virginity, lose the hair.
Okay, let's spend a moment on the events of Friday night: Jon caught my eye first. I kept on smiling at him until he was absolutely certain that I wanted him to talk to me. When he did come over I asked him to tell me about himself, and then after I gave a very obvious, "I don't know anybody" he offered his company, to which I requested he take me to shows, and he accepted. Then, after the show, I walked over to him to say my friend was ready to leave, and he offered his phone number. When he realized I had paper he asked for mine.
Here's my point: I basically did all the picking up. It's just that this time instead of doing it the aggressive way, I did it the passive way. I directed his actions by affirmation and questions which produced my desired results. I used my woman-wonder-skills that I've never really used on the field. I've been reluctant to try them out, but I guess they worked.
All I'm wondering is if I should wait for him to call? Will it make him feel like he's not being totally manipulated if I let him do the calling/asking out? Or is he thinking I'm the one interested so I should call? He did kiss me, though. Very deliberately. I even bashfully dodged some attempts before I demurely stood still and let him.
You know when the music is loud so you put your ear to someone's lips so they can talk? We were positioned like that, with our cheeks brushing each other's, and that's how the "dodging" and "attempting" took place. I thought I was just avoiding uncomfortable closesness, and then when I stood still, I realized he was not uncomfortable.
I think I've answered my own question.
He should call by Tuesday.
