A Rant

May I rant for a moment here? Hey, it's my blog; why am I asking? If you don't want to read, that's ok. That might be the better choice. Otherwise, don't say I didn't warn you.

First, my sincere apologies to those decent males out there. I know you do exist.

Now.

There's this guy. He showed up in the office a few weeks ago on business. He thought I was interesting. I found his combination or tongue-tied-ness and babbling somewhat amusing. He decided, as a result of some work related things, that he owed me a coffee.

Skip to last week. We had coffee. It was enjoyable. He's nice enough, funny, etc. He's also 5'7", which I swear is becoming a disturbing theme. Why are they always 5'7"? Please can I hit my head against a wall now? I know one guy who is 5'7" who made me totally not care that I'm two inches taller than him. Anyone else, hmm. Not so much, ok? Would 5'10" or (dare to dream) 6'+ be so impossible? That's not the point, though.

So in the middle of coffee last week he drops the word "date." I think I went into shock. It wasn't until a while after I got home that I fell apart and decided that I am just not ready to try this dating thing. But how to tell him? (Let's not even get started on the little detail that he's Hindu!)

He was at the mixer on Thursday. Wrong environment. Phone? Safe, but cold. He deserved the consideration of having that conversation in person.

I'm not ready to do this dating business. I can't handle it emotionally. This I told him today over coffee.

Ok, why do we need to put any labels on it? Why can't we be friends, spend some time together, and if it doesn't go anywhere, ok?

That sounded reasonable enough.

So we were just hanging out. It was nice. He's nice. He's ok friend material.

He kissed me.

*insert sound effect of broken video*

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.

Am I not speaking English? Is there some sign on me that broadcasts to guys that I really don't mean no? Was my earlier statement somehow unclear?

Forget it. I'm just a little bit irritated (read: completely pissed off). And just about ready to swear off dating entirely. It just doesn't work. The only time I manage to find someone who isn't a loser, he's stuck 3300 miles away. Or I'm stuck 3300 miles away. Whichever. It doesn't matter. The result is the same.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is exactly why I didn't date anyone at all for a decade. (Well, that, and no one other than Shadow Boy and a couple stalkers was ever interested.) Is that ever a tempting place to return to.

I am now imagining kicking inanimate objects.

Forget being considerate. The next conversation will be over the phone. I'm done.

Oh, counseling's going to be fun this week.