This is a long post of long. You have been warned.
So, as I have discussed with some of you already, I went on a date on Tuesday with the guy from the bookstore. I didn't say anything up until this point because I wasn't really sure how to feel about him.
... gotta say, I'm pretty positive now.
We'll call this one "How To Tell If The Guy Who Asked You Out is Totally Wrong For You in Five Days or Less: A Guide By Becky."
Tuesday, I met with B for lunch, as I said I would. Up until this point, I had only spoken to him a few times, very briefly, but he seemed nice enough, and was brave enough to give me his number, so I decided to honor that.
We went to my favorite Asian restaurant in Waltham (which was, coincidentally, also his), and I enthused about the crab rangoons there. Which are seriously amazing, guys. Like, I have certain food that are my happy place, and Tom Can Cook's crab rangoons are my happy place. FAUX ASIAN PARADISE.
As soon as the waiter comes around, before I can so much as open my mouth, Ben blurts out, "Okay, we'll have two waters, an order of crab rangoons, and did you want anything else, Becky?"
... okay. I never said I wanted water. And those crab rangoons come in rather small portions, so I was planning on combining them with another appetizer and making that my lunch. I'm not really fond of sharing my happy place, but okay. Irksome, but maybe he thought he was being gallant by speaking for me.
The rest of the lunch went well enough. I mean, he felt he had to order miso soup for me because he got some, but I ordered something that didn't come with soup, so I didn't really care. ("It's really good!" Yeah, I know what miso tastes like, buddy.) I found out that he likes anime, and is going to Anime Boston. I'm somewhat wary of fanboys, but cool! Maybe he's not that bad!
He found out that my birthday was Saturday, and I told him I was leaving the con early to go to dinner with my friends in Cambridge. He immediately chimed in with, "Aw, man, that's pretty far, I don't think I can do that," leaving me wondering when I offered an invitation. But the rest of the conversation was pleasant enough, and I made it clear to him that I'm not a very social person.
That night, he texted me and IMed me. Okay, Becky. This is what normal people do. Don't raise your eyebrows just because you're a hermit.
And then he linked me to some of his writing on Gaia, asking for my feedback. Here is a small sample of said writing:
"You run into the damp bog of karma where every action results in the bog killing a small part of you. To get through the bog and truly leave without carrying the stink of the bog’s tormented balance forever you must take the longest path, and thus kill every part of yourself. Turning yourself into a hollow shell that has given all of himself to feed the webs of fate construed in the damp bog of karma."
... okay, Becky. Don't judge a man by his prose.
He continued IMing me every night until AB, and just to make sure, I continually made reference to the fact that I like space, and space is good. For instance, I said something like, "Man, I'm so busy, I'm looking forward to curling up with a book next weekend." He responded, "Yeah, weekends are bad for me, can you do weekdays instead?"
... you know, B, the translation of "non-sequitur" is "does not follow." Keep that in mind before you speak.
So at the con, while I was in the five hour line, he called me about four times, and texted me twice, asking to meet up at some point. I couldn't hear my phone well, but when I finally did, he claimed he'd come visit me after I got out of line. I told him he could wait until after my friends and I got dinner, because we were friggin DYING.
He came over to sit with us while we were chilling and relaxing until the AMV contest. He parted with his friends, and made some awkward conversation with mine. There were a few moments that were more awkward than others, such as him talking about how DBZ sounds like a gay porno, with the rest of us going, "Ahaha... yeahhhh..." Most of the time, though, he sat next to us silently while I talked to Melissa, Sarah, and Miranda. Which I don't think there was anything wrong with; I told him this was something I'd planned with my friends, so they came first.
He followed us into the AMV contest, and sat with us up until we left. Several times, he talked with his friends on the phone, but when I asked if he wanted to go with them, he said no.
He called again the next day and asked to meet up, and I told him I was busy with my friends. When he accepted that, I thought, hey! Good sign! Maybe I'm being too hard on him!
... then there was last night.
B's IMs last night showed blatant examples of TRYING! TOO! HARD! Like, ending every IM with a question in order to force conversation. (I knew a guy once who did that. Then he would claim I was flirting with him, but that's another tale.)
At one point, I let things lapse into silence, as one does in AIM. Then, he messaged me with a "*hugs* Hello?" and I realized that people who write about bogs of karma aren't huge on subtlety. So I told him not to try so hard to make conversation, and that silences happen.
... he seriously answered back with a huge run-on sentence that I can't even begin to duplicate. I wish I could have saved it, because I was kind of unbelievable. Something about the school hallways of his brain, and... oh God, I don't even remember, but it was like ten metaphors crammed into one sentence.
Hoping he was being ironic, I answered, "Wow, that's a long sentence."
He immediately shot back another one, explaining how his internal monologue is like a waterfall.
Still trying to steer things to the non-metaphorical side of the force, I asked if "internal monologue like a waterfall" was like "love is a battlefield" or something. He proceeded to run with that for a while, and when we started joking a bit, I dared to think, "Okay, metaphorical avalanche averted."
Then when I let things trail off again, he "..."ed. And at that point, I didn't bother to answer.
He IMed again twenty minutes later. This part, I have saved, because I C+Ped it into a "WTF is this shit" e-mail to my mom.
B (0:45:48): Well that was harsh. I guess it was best taken in metaphorical format. Anyway goodnight.
Beck (0:46:53): I have no idea what you're talking about, but goodnight?
B (0:47:32): It's okay I often have no idea what I'm talking about either. If I manage to catch half of myself, I can hope a magician will put the rest together.
Beck (0:49:04): ... uh. Okay. Sleep well.
In conclusion, wow, now I have to get rid of this guy somehow. Someday, I'll find a guy who's confident, emotionally independent, and doesn't expect me to be a romantic little girl in awe of his brilliance. Today? Definitely not that day.
In non-love life matters, though, Anime Boston was lovely. I had a great birthday, thanks to my IRL friends and the birthday wishes from all of you! Also, I had an extremely amusing exchange with a Funimation employee about the restaurant chain California Pizza Kitchen. I knew I liked you the best, Funi.
