The case of the Pizza Delivery Guy

Sometimes I feel like my life is some sort of slow, boring Truman Show with really bad story editors. 75% of the time its totally uninteresting to the outside eye. Actually, maybe more like 95%. And then these random, ridiculous, completely out of nowhere things happen and I feel like I am in a fucked up (but usually fairly funny) nightmare that some reality show producer dreamt up.

Right now I am on my couch, all of my roommates are out with significant others, and I am in the worst mood. I feel emotionally unstable. The most recent date, which was Friday, hasn't called again, and its Tuesday. And since I am completely socially inept, I have no idea if that is normal or if I'm being blown off. Which is completely possible because I think he was pretty socially inept as well. I couldn't read what happened there at all. I just keep thinking of the Sex and the City episode where Berger tells Miranda "He's just not that into you." Why has that phrase become the mantra of the single woman? My friend in Phoenix says it all the time, like it makes things better. It doesn't make anything better. I mean who wants to think that? I would much rather think there was a death in the family and he moved back to New York suddenly to take care of his grieving relatives, all the while pining away for the relationship with me that was thwarted by timing and distance. None of that is true, of course, but its better then thinking he didn't like me.

He called at around 6:45pm on Friday night. We had spoken earlier in the week and I had told him my schedule was flexible. Since he wasn't sure what his work week looked like, I told him just to call when he had some time to get a quick drink. The call came as I was waking up from a much needed nap from a horrendously long day at work. I had been up since 4am, on my feet since 6:45am, working until 5pm. Maybe I was too eager. Being up that early is definitely a valid excuse to postpone drinks, but I liked him, and thought I was awake so I went. First mistake (well actually second if you count my horrible sunburn that should have prevented me from leaving the house for many days) was agreeing to the bar he suggested. This bar had previously been the scene of two horrifically bad dates, possible subjects for future entries. Bad karma.

I was relieved that he was as cute as I remembered him being through my jello-shot enduced haze of when we met. **Side note - I picked him up at a party a few weeks earlier by telling him he looked like my pizza delivery guy, which he did, but again, jello-shot haze.** We talked, no lull in conversation, things seemed to go well. Early on we had both decided that if we had more then 2 drinks we would be too drunk to drive home. I'm always a light weight drinker, not sure what his excuse is. After two drinks, we'd been there maybe an hour, I asked what the plan was. We had talked about maybe getting food and seeing as I was starving, it sounded like a fabulous idea to me. He went inside to close out his tap. We walked out of the bar, he asked where my car was, we walked to my car, he hugged me good bye, and that was it. I got in my car completely confused. I'm still completely confused. Where exactly did I go wrong? Was he blinded by my shiny red sunburn? Was he really insulted when I said I hated the Valley (but who really considers Glendale the Valley?). I'm pretty much resigned to the idea that he isn't calling at this point, but I honestly have no idea where I went wrong. Any insight would be fantastic.

So here we are, back on my couch, but now, two of the couples have returned and so instead of feeling like a loser by myself, I get to feel like a loser surrounded by couples. How fabulous for me. Its these moments that my decision to not have a television in my bedroom seems very mislead. But tis the life I lead, and now back to the 95% of my life that no one in their right mind would give a crap about...