A Calendar Wherein I Allude Vaguely to Things Unnamed
“It’s like Spock writing Bridget Jones’ Diary.”
Friday I had another episode on the subway of finding someone attractive and trying to signal my attraction and interest by making eye contact and smiling but instead finding myself again unable to look at him at the same time that he was so blatantly looking at me and I somehow only managed to smile at the floor.
Saturday I realized that I had made the fatal mistake of trying to judge something about which I knew too little. As it happens, I had misjudged someone’s handling of a situation. On the surface, the rightful course of action was simple and straight-forward. I thought he was being too nice and forgiving but after I met the other person I understood better and think he made the right decision.
Saturday I also realized that, though I still do not believe in love at first sight, there is someone with whom I felt an instant affinity that went beyond mere attraction. I don’t know if it’s timing or abandonment issues or that he just flips all my switches or what. We probably have nothing in common and would make each other rather miserable. He will think I am fat and weird and I will find him annoying. It’s been so difficult trying to get to know him. Surely that’s a sign of wrongness? Every time I see him I look for reasons why I’m being ridiculous and hormonal and overly romantic (too many Jane Austen novels?) and why he’s stupid and incompatible and impossible and every time I see him a small voice inside pipes up and says, All those things are true and I could love him. This is especially painful because I pride myself on rationality. It’s like Spock writing Bridget Jones’ Diary. It’s quite awful. So I’ve resigned myself to maybe always loving him a little and trying to just live my life around it, like living with a ghost in your house. Maybe I can write a romance novel about it. Maybe a shitty Rom-Com starring J.Lo as me.
Sunday I realized that lots of men find me quite attractive and I could even love some of them (plus my ghost) but that life is complex and convoluted and confusing and crazy and a lot of other words beginning with the letter “C”, just like my name.
Monday I am hung-over.
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//FROM THE ARCHIVES
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