Thursday, November 14, 2002
      ( 9:27 AM ) Rebecca  
So Dr. S. came roaring back, malheureusement.

Would-be-ice-princess that I am, I said NO to his invitation last week, which sent him into a frenzy of friendliness and yet another invitation (note to self: say no to attractive men more often).

Since I am not really an ice princess, and since he is, after all, my destiny, I decided to give the doctor another chance. BUT. Not without telling him how I felt about his flaky sheninagans. And after that, I was fully prepared never to hear from his royal badass-ness again.

But then he came back and apologized for aforementioned behavior, said he was glad I'd said something, and that he would avoid such behavior in the future.

Huh.

So we’re going out this weekend. In the two months we’ve been “dating,” we have yet to go out on a weekend night. It will be interesting to see how the doctor comports himself under the spell of alchohol and a Saturday night. Though I don't doubt his manliness, I have the feeling this guy isn’t making a move until he’s really into it. Like, once we kiss, if we kiss, it’s for real. And I can respect that, even though personally, of course, I will kiss just about anyone.

But it's just as well, because if he does bust a move, it will only make things complicated with Memphis Boy, with whom I have the most lovely relationship a ce moment. Every time we’re together, I end up relaxed and blissed out. And this is without s*x, and despite the fact that I’m constantly racking my brain for what could be wrong/doomed about our liaison.

Two thoughts, however, clouded my blissed out state last night, after MB and I had spent an entire day together. The first, entirely unwelcome, thought.

He's not Loser.

No, he's f***ing not, and that's a good thing, but... feeling euphoric made me flash back to other times I'd felt euphoric. Namely: pre-relationship days, when Loser and I were still just "friends," a tight, self-contained unit, all sparkle and sexual tension. How happy that made me.

So....yeah.

And the other, truly evil thought.

I'd rather invite the doctor to my holiday party.

Now don't get me wrong— I'm not inviting any boy to my work holiday party. I'm still a free agent, after all. And who knows what, uh, poorly-dressed, overweight computer geeks might be there at the work holiday party to sweep me off my feet. But I could, in theory, invite a boy, of course, and both MB and Dr. S. are candidates, with MB being a much more likely AND deserving candidate. After all, he actually likes me! And I actually like him! And we're actually dating!

But all I could think of was the doctor's arm-candy potential. The thought of having my coworkers see him and think "Wow, she's really done well for herself since Loser!" Memphis Boy is cute and all, and I adore him, but...a tall, dark, handsome doctor...now that would impress people.

And I am the shallowest person on the fact of the planet.


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