hetero weirdness
October 10, 2007

Ford joined me for a rousing kickboxing class yesterday afternoon, to which he wore a grey athletic t-shirt and navy mesh shorts. If it weren’t for the addition of white knee socks with royal blue stripes up the sides, he actually would have looked decently butch.

Well he took the socks off because he said they were “encumbering his high kicks.” ::eyeroll:: But when we came back from class, Ford in his sweat stained gray shirt with his hair all messy with sweat, smelling like a wrestling team locker room, the pheromones brought Jane out of her bedroom like a cobra out of a basket.

“Ooh, Ford you’re so sweaty,” she said, a hint of sarcasm still thankfully lingering in her voice, but with an edge of something that made me want to squeal under my breath and wave red flags in the air.

“That’s what happens when you sculpt guns like this, Jane,” he shot back back and flexed. There was a bizarre moment of silence while Jane gazed. I banged some pots in the sink to break the sound of Twilight Zone music playing in my ears.

Fast forward ten minutes, and Jane is taunting Ford about his taste for Watermelon Smirnoff Ice. Whew.

I am choosing not to think too hard on that one for the sake of my own sanity.

Also, re: waitressing for the rest of my life–no. I’m looking into doing nursing school during the day. It seems like every other job I see online is for some kind of nursing job. Or I might try to check out some business management classes. Boring, but necessary if I want to move up in this world from the position of customer service wench. Wish a liberal arts degree meant shit in this world.

net zero date
October 9, 2007

Date with Grace (woman who is actually near my age) went okay this weekend. It was sort of a roller coaster though…we went out to an Italian restaurant at her suggestion…which isn’t the most original thing in the world, so, I was feeling like, “Ehh.” Right after she sat down, she began talking about this amazing book she is reading by Ariel Levy, Female Chauvinist Pigs, and talking about the misogyny involved in the news coverage of Hillary Clinton’s campaign, and really impressing me with some feminist thought, so I thought to myself, “Eeh!” Then she ordered a beef dish– Eeh. But then I noticed that she had the longest eyelashes in the entire world, which accented these brilliant almost teal-colored eyes– I mean, I’m not going to lie, this girl is gorgeous–Eeh! She’s more into playing and following tennis than art or poetry though–minus a thousand. But she’s also really involved in GLBT politics in Nashville–plus a thousand. So as you can see, the scales were tipped down and back again, and I’m still at about net zero opinion. Have you ever had a net zero date? I felt like I went back and forth at a dizzying speed until I really had no idea whether I wanted to drive her directly back to my bedroom and light some candles or run away screaming. I mean, I’d see her again if she calls me.

I miss Alana. I called her last night and can’t help but think she didn’t pick up because she was with Bill. Blah.

Have to work tonight. Major Blah.

date with Alana and other possibilities
October 5, 2007

She sat me down on a plush sofa, brought me a robust glass of red wine, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Then she called me into dinner in this gargantuan dining area, appeared from the kitchen door carrying two square ceramic plates with a supernova-looking aqua glaze, on top of which she had prepared two plates full of vegetarian sushi with pink radish garnish. It was truly edible art.

“Better to be an older man’s princess than a young man’s whore,” my college friend Danielle used to say when we poked fun at her for dating a forty year old. I hate to say it, but I’m starting to see Danielle’s point.

I know Alana has the money to wine and dine me; she’s one of the rare few who can make good money from figure painting. But I don’t want to be someone’s pool girl, like I said. Still, I can’t say I hate being catered to once in a while, considering that I’m on my feet for six or seven hours most days sloshing trayfulls of booze everywhere.

After some relaxing and a rockin’ back rub, I had to set some boundaries.

Darcy: So, if you’re still with your husband, then…I’m also going to date as well.

Alana<pained expression>: If you’d like.

Darcy: Okay. I will.

So I set up a date with Emma, the girl who left her number for me at the bar, this weekend.

The rest of the night at Alana’s was spent looking at photo albums by the light of dimmed lamps and all of these gorgeous candles she has on sconces around the walls. And there was a kiss or two exchanged. But I’m trying to put the breaks on until I can see things a little clearer. I hope I’m not jumping in too deep here. And even if I am, it beats spending the time watching things like it happen on TV.