I am not in the habit of receiving unsolicited attention from men. Wait. I’m not in the habit of receiving solicited attention either! Oh, you know what I mean.
Anyway, it’s true (I know... try to conceal your shock). Now, in the right setting I can sometimes generate attention, you know, with my sparkling wit and scintillating intellect (and by ‘sparkling wit and scintillating intellect’, I mean ‘my big mouth’). But as a rule? Nope. I seem to be supremely forgettable.
I’ve certainly had my fair share of dating relationships, but I generally have to pursue them, at least to a degree. A pretty large degree. And, as we all know, given that I am quite single, none of them have ‘stuck’. There have been varying reasons for that, certainly, but often I think I am ‘too much this’ or ‘not enough that’. I like to think I simply haven’t yet met the man who totally appreciates the essence that is Diane (Pfffttt! Even I can’t say that without snorting!). Of course, with my luck, the one guy who did totally appreciate my essence was probably Troll-Guy. Sigh. Too bad I messed that up with my snark (and by ‘too bad’, I mean ‘WHEW!’).
Don’t get me wrong… I’m not complaining (OK, I totally am complaining but I’m going to pretend I’m not and mask my whinging in excuses that make me feel better. Just go along with it, OK?). I tend to get ‘friended’ (as opposed to ‘girlfriended’) by men. A lot. It’s not a terrible thing, really. I get to keep some great guys in my life and they get… well… me. Joke’s on them, eh?
You’ve all met Todd…
And though you don’t know it, you’ve met Alan (he’s my obnoxious Anonymous commenter)...
And of course, the Republican...
OK, so that’s not my Republican but I never asked him if I could use his picture and you know how uptight those conservative types can be… of course, I never asked Alan either but he’s not a conservative (though he might as well be, given how much he pisses me off with his snarky comments, so he can have his face plastered over the Internet and suffer! PS... Love ya, Alan!).
Anyway, as I say, I’m not in the habit of being on the receiving end of random romantic overtures (well, except from the likes of those ‘bless his heart’ sorts). So when it happens, I get flustered. Like today…
I went to the bookstore at lunchtime. I just needed to get out of the house and it’s one of my favorite places (‘cause I’m a nerd, that’s why). I sat down in the coffee shop area with a magazine and a cup of tea and read for a while. The place filled up pretty quickly, until there were no free tables left, and I saw this guy looking around for a place to sit. He looked like a college student (have I mentioned that Pigsknuckle is a university town? We have a major state school, 2 smaller private universities, and a community college all in or within 15 miles of town… we are stinkin’ rife with students).
Anyway, after looking around for a minute, the guy walked over to my table and asked if I minded sharing. I said that was fine (‘cause I’m all nice and friendly like that, that’s why). He sat down with his Grande Soy Latte Chocolate Decaf Whipped Frothy Cinnamon-topped frou-frouey drink (OK, so I totally don’t know what he was drinking… it might have been plain coffee… I just always imagine people drinking stupid drinks like that in coffee shops) and introduced himself (he had a good Scottish name but for the purpose of this blog, we’ll call him The Boy). He told me he was a grad student at Pigsknuckle U; asked what I was reading (a writing magazine); asked if I was a writer (in the most generous interpretation of the word); said ‘cool’ a lot; showed me what he’d bought (2 books about the social dynamic of Pygmies in their natural habitat… OK, so I don’t remember what they were about because they looked dull as dirt); and proceeded to chat up a storm. I gave up on my magazine. He was cute, in that gangly sort of ‘not finished growing’ way. And quite funny, really. Clearly smart.
So, after quite a while, I finished my tea and started to make tracks. As I was gathering my stuff, he was still chatting…
The Boy: Hey, would you like to have dinner with me sometime?
The Boy: There are a couple of nice places downtown.
Me: Ummm… (did I mention that I'm incredibly articulate, as well as being witty and intelligent?)
The Boy: Come on… what do you say?
Me: Ummm… (this is getting ridiculous now)
The Boy (waiting expectantly): …
Me (finally!): Ummm... are you asking me on a date?
The Boy (laughing): Don’t tell me it’s never happened before.
Me: Pffffftttttt. Don’t be silly. Well… OK… it hasn’t happened lately.
The Boy (still laughing): Then you’re due. What do you say?
Me: OK, I have to ask… how old are you?
The Boy: 24. Why?
Me: Good lord, child, I have socks older than you!
The Boy (snorting his Grande Soy Latte yadda yadda): …
Me: Yeah. I'm serious.
The Boy: Does it really matter?
Me: Well, see, I have this rule… I don’t date anyone to whom I could have actually given birth.
The Boy (laughing again): You’re not that old.
Me: Now you’re just sucking up.
The Boy: Seriously. My mother is 46!
Me: What’s your point?
The Boy: Whoa. 46? Really?!
Me: Thank you for looking incredulous. I appreciate it more than you know. It’s 44 actually… but perilously close to 45.
The Boy: Wow.
Me: See what I mean? But thanks for the invite. Really. It’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time, but I have to pass. I’d feel all… ooky.
The Boy (laughing yet again): And ooky is… bad?
Me: Ooky is bad.
The Boy: OK, so how about just a coffee sometime… you know, a friendly coffee.
Me: That, I could maybe do.
The Boy: Cool.
The Boy: Oh, and Diane?
The Boy (winking): You really ought to get some new socks.
Me (winking back): And you really ought to get new glasses.
I feel like Mrs. Robinson. Hey... I wonder if his dad's single?