Implosion
The Crush (1)
The Crush (2)
The Crush (3)
Good Advice
Unequal Footing
When Worlds Collide
The Woolies
clare Carver
Dot Com Dance
Encourage Saint X
Disparage Saint X
D A T E L I N E U P D A T E : When Worlds Collide
Thursday, July 19
Just when I fear I'm running out of material . . .
I'm making my way to a happy hour hosted by Swing Girl. (I'm the 146th guest if you'll remember from last time. Shame? Self respect? Screw it.) It's 7:20 in downtown San Francisco so the streets are mostly deserted. Who do I run into one block from the door?
Art Girl!
She doesn't work in the area. She lives across the bay. Have I cosmically linked these two women? I can't help wonder if it's some weird influence of the museum of modern art (just over my left shoulder). Or maybe it's because The Woolies are playing later in the night.
She's walking up the street with a friend. We're both a little stunned, but undeniably pleased. (She noticed me and was the one to call out, by the way.) Instinct kicks in - where are these coming from? - and I make sure to greet her with a hug before any lame handshake has the possibility of appearing. Furthermore, I'm relieved I manage to pull the right name out of the air - from a list of nearly ten women I'm actively corresponding with at the moment. This gives us the opportunity to re-confirm, in person, that we're doing something together next week.
I'm inspired. I cannot resist the delicious irony, and I actually invite Art Girl and Friend to the happy hour. (Seriously, ain't nothing developing with Swing Girl - we're in the casual-social-association zone. Did I already mention she works in my field and that we have a common friend? When someone says your name sounds familiar, believe her!) Judge fortune as you will, they're on their way to dinner. Can't imagine what they'll have to talk about.
So THIS is what happens when you leave your apartment. I'm so jazzed I don't mind the $9 drinks at the bar. Next week should be interesting. My only real complaint is that this little encounter has shot my second date attire to hell. I gotta make myself a chart!
-- Saint X
* * * * *
Another Surprise
Just when I fear I'm running out of material . . .
I'm making my way to a happy hour hosted by Swing Girl. (I'm the 146th guest if you'll remember from last time. Shame? Self respect? Screw it.) It's 7:20 in downtown San Francisco so the streets are mostly deserted. Who do I run into one block from the door?
Art Girl!
She doesn't work in the area. She lives across the bay. Have I cosmically linked these two women? I can't help wonder if it's some weird influence of the museum of modern art (just over my left shoulder). Or maybe it's because The Woolies are playing later in the night.
She's walking up the street with a friend. We're both a little stunned, but undeniably pleased. (She noticed me and was the one to call out, by the way.) Instinct kicks in - where are these coming from? - and I make sure to greet her with a hug before any lame handshake has the possibility of appearing. Furthermore, I'm relieved I manage to pull the right name out of the air - from a list of nearly ten women I'm actively corresponding with at the moment. This gives us the opportunity to re-confirm, in person, that we're doing something together next week.
I'm inspired. I cannot resist the delicious irony, and I actually invite Art Girl and Friend to the happy hour. (Seriously, ain't nothing developing with Swing Girl - we're in the casual-social-association zone. Did I already mention she works in my field and that we have a common friend? When someone says your name sounds familiar, believe her!) Judge fortune as you will, they're on their way to dinner. Can't imagine what they'll have to talk about.
So THIS is what happens when you leave your apartment. I'm so jazzed I don't mind the $9 drinks at the bar. Next week should be interesting. My only real complaint is that this little encounter has shot my second date attire to hell. I gotta make myself a chart!
-- Saint X
Another Surprise