What Happened

What happened Sunday was a whole lot of nothing--mostly.

I know it seems silly, but I was stressed because this wasn't a first date even but the guy had expressed clear interest--and he's a friend of one of my best friends ... and I wasn't sure I was interested! I know, perhaps too much overthinking was poured into this but ... I've been known to get overly physical with a guy because I wasn't sure what to do and didn't want that to happen this time.

Ahem. Clearly I like to put the cart before the horse.

LV asked a very good question: have I ever discussed this anxiety with a shrink? Yes, but it's been awhile, and I suppose a refresher wouldn't hurt.

For the record, I hide my little anxieties very well. If I confess to my colleagues (at a happy hour or some such) that I am an introvert at heart, they are shocked. I do the calm, cool and collected thing very well--which is why it feels so good to confess the darker side here. (And I know many introverts who are the same. Introverts are most often not the shrinking violets you see at the dark corners of the room; they are often actors or public speakers--it's true! It's easy to throw a persona to the crowd--as long as we don't have to reveal our true selves and as long as we get copious amounts of down time.) (And by the way, I suspect my anxieties don't have much to do with my introvertedness--more that I just never learned how to be friends with a guy, to not expect anything, to leave sex out of it, for Pete's sake.)

Anyway, what happened was this: the guy (don't know if he needs a name) came over, fixed the thing he came to fix, and I offered him a beer.

All well and good, right? We sat in the living room and talked, awkwardly. I tried to put him at ease, tried to discern whether I was attracted to him (all the while thinking: sometimes it's the guy who doesn't get you to the core that ends up being the love of your life--or so I've heard). We ended up talking about sex, somehow--as in how old we were the first time. I wouldn't tell him (that tale I save for significant others), but he told me about his first time--in general terms, the little stud.

He suggested we get together next week--casually, not a date. We hugged. Fin.

I discussed the whole thing with our mutual good friend. She thinks he's interested. But am I? The whole thing is fraught. Fraught, I tell you!

Oh, I like drama--I'm really not so worked up. ;)

PS--Ironically, another guy is coming over sometime soon to fix something else! And with this one, I know I'm not interested. (Tried to get out of his assisting me, but he insisted, and who am I to stand in the way of a good deed?)

Social Newbie

I am having a mini, well-controlled freak-out. Worse, it's for no good reason.

Most of us, by my age, know how to be casual around men and how to just hang out. Well, gosh, I don't, and there's a guy coming over to my house in an hour to help me fix something.

It's innocuous, on one hand, and then also not: he jumped at the chance to help me with this thing and the email he wrote when he offered to do so was so clever and carefully written that I suspect he's interested.

On the other hand, this isn't a date. I don't know what the expectations here are. I'd like to invite him in for a beer, but I'm not good at those kind of casual invitations that other people seem to pull off. I don't know how to be platonic with guys--with guys who are interesting, that is.

Ack.

Well, I've continued my flirtations out there in the world, befriending a hunky musician Friday night (I swear, all the women were practically throwing their panties at him) and last night I was friendly with a music mogul-type, which landed my friends and I excellent seats at a concert.

See, friendliness counts. I hope I can be friendly/casual/cool when this guy comes over in a few moments! (I die.)

Near Misses

Well, Trouble (of the previous entry) has a long-term girlfriend. She's super cool and lovely and around her, he was studiously not flirty--just friendly. Trouble, you need to dial back the flirt when your cool, lovely girlfriend isn't around! To be fair, he hasn't been inappropriate but his flirtatiousness didn't lead me to believe he had a girlfriend. Anyhoo, now I know.

The paired and married men at work think it's a mystery that I'm single. In their eyes I see a glint of, "I'd date her if I weren't with my wonderful wife/girlfriend." But would they? No, I don't think so. They, in their married/coupledness just feel secure.

Last night's party at the winery was first class. I wish I could tell you about it ... But since I can't, I will tell you about C. C does contract work for us, and nearly from the beginning I've sensed strong mutual attraction--never mind that he's a good deal shorter than me. (Jeez. Why does this happen?) I didn't expect C to be at the party, but there he was, and I was thrilled to see him. We didn't really have a chance to talk until the after party, when we grabbed drinks and shouted at each other over the thumping bass.

And here I confess that I have resigned myself to a Type: the sensitive, somewhat shy guy. I suppose, too, that these kinds of men like me, because I can be so vibrant and exciting around them (whereas guys who are the center of attention steal the show and there's no reason for me to reveal my fabulousness).

So, that's C: somewhat shy, sensitive, artistic, short. We were standing there, talking (shouting) and before I knew it, we were talking about our ages (he's four years younger), dating and marriage. To be clear, marriage came up in terms of parental pressures ... still. There was a lot of arm touching going on throughout. He ended up having to leave long before he wanted to.

Here's the thing: C doesn't strike me as a particularly motivated guy, and I want a motivated guy. Am I being too picky? Hey, I have nothing against shorter men, at least.

After C left, another guy (who I had been working with all evening) asked me if I was into Burning Man. Um, no. I could see the words, "Would you like to go out sometime?" forming on his lips, but I didn't encourage him, so he didn't ask.

A Confession and a Vibe

Oh God. Oh head hung in shame. I have not been keeping up with my cheerful, optimistic, new exercise regime.

My excuse? The winery I work for is having a huge, fabulous, world-class event soon. There is only time to eat, sleep and recuperate. Hence, I have not seen Hunky Neighbor. So, yes, sorry. No exciting news on that front.

In addition to confessing the above, however, I wanted to remark on an interesting phenomenon. This afternoon I happened to be hanging with some guys at work--well, really, one guy in particular, with other guys hanging about. I was wearing a flattering skirt and top (perfect for this very hot day), so that could be it. I definitely got The Vibe from this guy--and actually, I've been getting The Vibe for weeks. Even though he is a good bit shorter than me.

Oh, but he's confident and Trouble. I can just tell. This is a man who knows his way around women. Danger, danger. I've dated these types and know this is a No Go. Still, that pull of attraction is so irresistible!

Or maybe it's just resistible enough to carry a fun flirtation throughout the course of my employment at the winery. Hmmm. That could be fun, too.

This event at the winery will have dancing and much (much) wine. I anticipate some frivolity ... Stay tuned. I hope I won't disappoint. ;) (All within professional reason, of course.)

How Ruby Got Her Groove Back

(Oops. This post accidently published sans text, so if you came here a few minutes ago only to find nothing ... sorry!)

Well, whether I really have my groove back (if I ever had it in the first place) is yet to be determined. Optimism never hurt, I say, so let's just go with the best case scenario, shall we? I have gotten my groove back!

I spent last weekend in Southern California--that part of the state that we Northern Californians turn up our noses at. The traffic, the smog, the silicone, the celebrity mania! Who could love it? Well, I do. (I still don't know if I can handle the traffic.) I had the best time with my friend hashing over Man Issues and Single Issues and Ack-We're-in-Our-Mid-Thirties (tick tock!) Issues. We ate very well and drank too much. We walked a lot, saw celebs, ran stairs ... it was the best!

Part of the greatness was the sheer number of people my age. It was incredible! Even flying down I sat by handsome men (both coming and going)--that never happens!

So I returned to the sleepy, beautiful NV and decided that I am of a certain age and while I am not overweight, I could use some toning and slimming--and this won't happen by magic. Drastic measures needed to be taken.

Tuesday morning I hit the pavement at 5:30 a.m. Yes, that's right: I, who loooove to sleep in, got up 50 minutes early in hopes of whittling away at the thighs and hips. And get this: I met a cute guy. Sort of.

It stands to reason that I meet/see a handsome man on the morning when I roll out of bed, pull on exercise clothes and don't even wash my face or comb my hair because, Aw, screw it. I'm not going to see anyone.

There I am, walking briskly along the side of the road when I hear approaching footsteps behind me. It occurs to me that I am not wearing the right underwear with my Nike pants. (Am I the only one who thinks about these things? As evidenced by pantylines across the nation, some of us don't think about this enough!) I wait until the ambitious runner is next to me and look over and ... Why again didn't I freshen up a bit?

He flashed me a big smile and on he went, all tall and athletic and interesting. I saw him later as I was returning to my neighborhood. In fact we waved and said good morning before I shyly dashed up my sidewalk. (He clearly wanted to chat. But the hair, the face, the pantylines! Is it any wonder I'm single?) That was Tuesday morning.

Wednesday morning I went into work late and so exercised about an hour late. No sign of my hunky neighbor, of course.

This morning, I dragged my carcass from bed, washed the face, combed the hair, wore suitable clothing and didn't see Hunky Neighbor until I had returned from my walk. A car slowed, a window rolled down and he flashed me a brilliant smile. I said, "Good morning!" and darted.

I know, more of the darting. I bet you anything Hunky Neighbor will bump into me tomorrow morning and that names will be exchanged, at the very least. He strikes me as the sort of guy who enjoys the chase (hence my darting--I do feel cautious), so my behavior, though silly, isn't all bad.

Anyway, here's to a slimmer, more toned me. That I may get a date out of this new fitness regime before the results have taken hold is encouraging!