Okay, very weird. Remember when I once talked about that really self-absorbed boyfriend I had, Detroit Boy? Well, I recently was going through all my random burned and mixed CDs, to put them on my computer and thereafter my ipod, and I came across a copy of Elephant, by the White Stripes. This was a CD he had burned for me (because the White Stripes are from Detroit, and therefore he worshipped them, barf) RIGHT before we broke up (I dumped him).

I remember I listened to it once only, decided that half the songs had the exact same tunes as songs from their previous CD, and then just stuffed it somewhere and never tried it again. I don’t know why I had held onto it this long, but I did. So the other day I pulled it out and gave it a try, and oh dear god, I freaking loved it. Now I listen to it incessantly. Look how cutting-edge I am! Only two years behind on the hot new releases! Man, I used to be sort of cool, music-wise. Now I buy all my clothes from Old Navy and am proud for “discovering” two-year-old CDs. I feel like the soccer mom of the grad school population.

Another weird thing was that when I looked at the archives for that post about Detroit Boy to link to, I discovered that I wrote it like exactly a year ago, when I wrote about ANOTHER CD he had made me that I had tried to ignore. Isn’t that odd?

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In honor of V-Day approaching I have (yet another) tale of my own personal thwarted love life. The reason I haven’t posted anew in approximately 27 days is because I have been thinking about this. (Also because it is midterns. Ahem.) Last Saturday I was at work, at the restaurant, at night. There was this particular busboy working too; let’s call him R. R was just one of about twenty hot busboys who I chat and flirt with at work and then go home and don’t give a second thought to.

So, we’re working and running around. At one point, R stops me in the stairwell and asks what I’m doing after work. I said nothing. He says, “Do you want to come over for pizza and hot sex?”

(Now, I’m SURE he was totally joking. At least about the hot sex part. But it is testament to my nun-ness that I totally paused and stared at him for like ten seconds while trying to think of a response. Because I was very tempted.)

Finally I said, “Well, the pizza part sounds good.” And he looked surprised that I had said yes. And I was surprised that I had said yes. And we stared at each other in shock and awe.

So anyway, after work I came home and threw on better clothes. Then I decided that he was probably a pretty-boy/frat-boy type, and had never meant his invitation to me at all, and was probably regretting it, and would probably not call me. So I lay down on the bed and prepared to go to sleep in my clothes. (I don’t know why either.) And at that moment he called.

So, long story short, we went out. The only food place open at that time was the all-night sushi place downtown. We went there, and he smelled really nice and had put on Going Out clothes and we hung out, eating and talking, for like two hours, and he made one or two references to the fact that it was a first date, and it was very obvious that Something Was Happening.

Two funny/interesting things about him: he is into scary movies and generally being scared too, and his favorite movie is Moulin Rouge. I mean…? He looks like a frat boy. But apparently he “loves romances.” Charming.

So (WHY DO I KEEP TYPING “SO?” Stop me please) he dropped me off, and I was nervous so I ran out of the car before there was any chance of kissing. We made plans to go together the next night (Sunday) to the roller skating/laser tag birthday party of a girl at work. He was supposed to work that day, but I found out when I called him in the evening to sort out the driving arrangements that he had overslept! that morning because we had been out so late! and therefore had lost! his! job! Basically because of our date. Sweet Jesus.

We went roller skating/laser tagging, and it was all very fun, and afterwards everyone else went to a bar but we went to my favorite coffee shop, where there are couches and board games. We played Battleship and Backgammon and Dirty Jenga and joked around and had a great time. He claimed not to be upset about losing his job, because he was “planning to quit soon anyway,” but I know he would’ve wanted to have something else lined up first (he’s a student too), so I’m sure he was downplaying it. I felt bad about it.

We went back to his house and watched episodes of the Family Guy, and sort of wrestled and played around a little but never actually got around to kissing. It was obviously a more than friends thing though. At one point, he tried to put his hand up my pants leg and I jerked away really freakishly, and he was all, “Man, I bet you just haven’t shaved in forever. I bet you’re like Chewbacca.” And all I could do was stare in silence, because I mean…busted.

Coincidentally I had to leave right then, because I realized it was 3am, holy lord. But my roommates think he might have gotten the idea that I was freaked out over the leg-attempt-thing. He walked me to the car and I hugged him and I left, and he said we’d get together again soon.

So that was Sunday. On Wednesday I was sort of thinking I would hopefully hear from him soon, but he was probably doing that Swingers, five-day thing. I had a glass of wine watching Project Runway and caved in and called him. He sounded drunk. He was really bummed about the job thing. He said he’d been spending his days filling out applications, going to his few classes, and watching movies. Because he had no job to fill his time. And no money. And…I felt really bad. Again. I was sympathetic and then I asked him to come to my friend’s house on Sunday (today) to watch the Superbowl. He said, “Yeah, I’d like to. I’m not sure if I’ll have a job by then and they’ll want me to work Sunday, so let me just call you sometime before then and let you know for sure.”

We hung up. And then he never called. And now it is Sunday and I mean, I GUESS he could’ve meant, “Oh, I’ll call you up til the very minute of kickoff to let you know yes or no,” but I kind of think that he would’ve (should’ve) called, like, yesterday. So I assume he is just for whatever reason not interested anymore. What the hell? My guy roommate thinks he is probably just really depressed over the job/money thing, and is worrying and drinking and just needs to calm down from that and that I shouldn’t assume he isn’t interested. I don’t know.

Why am I so bad at dating? I am so damn old. Shouldn’t I be better at this at age 26? I mean, damn.

Have a fun Superbowl Sunday, y’all. Will we see some nudity on national tv today?? Hopefully yes.