Thursday, August 14, 2008

A Woman in Neither Port

Recently, I wrote about the consumer-shopper trap of  Well, I recently got myself in a wee pickle, arranging for two first dates within a week.  Now, I've juggled plenty of first dates in like manner, in the past, but it was never much of a problem, because they were such casual meetings that it was a simple matter to thank my date for a lovely evening and either just not ask her out again or politely phone her to say I'd met someone else with whom I'd hit it off and wish the woman I didn't fancy all best, and good luck.  But, this time, I saw trouble brewing, because I saw chemistry bubbling in both cases.  What I did NOT want to happen, though, was find that I'd had fun, flirtatious evenings with two different women and would have to find a way of jacking only one of them around.  I didn't want to wind up 'comparison shopping' for a girlfriend because it's both rude and tiring.  So, instead, after the first first date, I politely withdrew from the second first date, before ever meeting the woman in person.  I decided to give the first first date a chance of moving on to a second date and third date, etc., etc., and either develop into something or wither on its own, without any double dealings on my part.  Well, considering I never heard back at all from the second first date, my guess is I wound up jacking her around after all.  Damnation.  That feels bad.

Further trouble:  my peripatetic life has left me unable to pursue someone of interest to me in Portland (a very cool gal, indeed, who has no need of waiting around for ME, I'll tell you), while also making would-be dates hesitant, in Houston, because I have no idea how long I'm going to be here--another two years, tops, probably no more than nine months--making me a risky bet. 

To top it off, I'm playing Sir Peter Teazle--an old bachelor married to a much younger woman-- in one of my monologues next week, so there's much room for me to feel doubly ridiculous right about now.   

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