connections and dissections

I sat across a table last night with a cup of yerba mate tea and a growling stomach because it's more datelike when someone else pays and I'm not one to take advantage of gender dynamics like that, and it's a coffeeshop so I don't want want bakery when mine is better or an overpriced salad and as we talk I'm noticing a tendency to zone out into smile/nods, because we've covered all this ground before and I want to talk about something else, but I'm not sure what or if I'm just being moody and unreasonable or if I'm just spoiled by my morning coffee and snark partners in peonage and have become too accustomed to a certain level of most-encompassing discourse. And I'm not sure where he's at either, because we're not kids anymore, and usually the lines are laid out more firmly: platonic or not so much.


I drive home, coming up the stairs I realize I'm so glad to be alone now, wondering how this happened as I scoop some leftovers out of the fridge to nuke in the microwave and make myself some tea and wait for the neighbors to stop by with house keys and cat-watching details. There are other things I'm thinking about, spinstery things like my garden plot and the cats that will be taking up residence this weekend and what I want to make next on the pottery wheel and how I need to start taking these little scattered bits and get my guitar out and see if I can write something I'd want to listen to. It might be that this is easier and safer. 

It's not that I'm antisocial at all, I hosted dinner on Monday night and when the Queen of the Bondo and her husband came over, we hung out for a bit in the living room talking about books and cities and such, but then I cherish this space of solitude that's my own domain and wonder if that makes me selfish or self-preserving or a little bit of both.

dowagery

One of my friends got engaged this weekend, another's moving in hopes that a new neighborhood might mean making some connections with other likeminded souls, and certain folk who don't know me too well think they know me well enough to set me up with their coworkers, leading to awkward small talk misconstrued as soulmate preliminaries.

No, I'm not sure I want to chat on facebook or continue a conversation where I felt like everything I said made your eyes look more hungry, and aren't there women closer to your age, maybe, since I was six years old when you were old enough to vote? We might have stuff in common, but your myspace page says you've got some kids, and maybe we like some of the same bands but I'm a little creeped out by the combo of books by motivational preachers and kinky sex. I know we've all got our incongruities but my already-skeptical gut feelings and with such evidence, I figure it's best not to leave anyone hanging so I wrote back with a thanks-but-no-thanks response that will hopefully be sufficient in rebuffing.

I used to be really passive-aggressive about this kind of thing, and I've realized that it's cowardly and unfair on my part to string anyone along, and also some people find it hard to take a hint and such. I've got enough good going on in my life that I'm not sure I'd want to rearrange that for just anyone, and I've been more content with where I'm at than ever.  


Picky? Probably, and maybe it's western and too modern of me to believe in friendship, of camaraderie of both the soul and the mind, because we all get old and ugly someday and I still want to be able to have something there. More and more I feel like I've got myself together, but upon that happening, I've realized that I don't tie my worth to another's attraction and for some reason that's strangely empowering. If something ever happens with someone, it won't be because I got desperate or felt inadequate somehow on my own.