1. Elsa the Hungarian Pharmacist:
I met her a couple of weekends ago at a 4 a.m. bar in which I was way too old to be at; I was like the chaperon, seriously. Just when I'm thinking it's time to get a slice of pizza and an orange soda* and take my old ass home, a blond walks in, and she "makes eyes at me."** A little while later, the two of us are doing a barroom, make-out deal, another thing I'm way too old for. We have since exchanged text messages and calls, but it took a while for us to connect. When we finally did talk, I found her to be a lot of fun, and she has a great laugh. We plan on meeting up tomorrow (Thursday).
2. Cute accent.
3. Might be a potential hook-up for copious drugs. Only kidding! Seriously, positive factor number three has been saying Elsa the Hungarian Pharmacist for the last couple of weeks.
1. I know almost nothing about her.
2. The bar was dark and I was drunk, so she might not be as pretty as I thought she was.
3. Ladies I have met under similar circumstances have not been of much substance, except for Classy.
2. Asian Med-Student Neighbor:
She's a beautiful woman, there are no two ways about it, and everyone who meets her thinks so. We have these amazing conversations when we're one-on-one, yet it's somewhat strained when we're in a crowd. There was one night where it looked like something was going to go down between us, but she flaked. Then another night we're out with a bunch of people, the two of us are talking in a room of the bar away from our friends, and we're agreeing about how great our talks have been. Moments later, when I really should have been kissing her, I find myself talking with some Russian guy in a Cannibal Corpse t-shirt, discussing the merits of their seminal, 1990 LP Butchered at Birth.***
A few days ago she calls me, surprising as it may be after choosing a death metal discussion over her, to ask if I have any Bed Bath and Beyond coupons, which I, of course, didn't. But moments later I found myself going linen/bedding shopping with her. Good sign, right? By the end of the trip we had made plans to go Christmas shopping at Macy's together. Great sign, yes? However, knowing me, I will build up the Christmas party at her house this Saturday as the end-all-be-all moment to make a move. After chickening out, or watching her hook back up with the hand doctor or some other doctor, I'll go upstairs to my apartment, listen to Love Hurts by Nazareth, cry into my keyboard, and then be my own hand doctor.
1. Butterflies. I get honest-to-God butterflies.
2. She's intelligent and a good conversationalist.
3. Fun to be with. I could have sniffed candles in that shop with her until they kicked us out.
1. Seems to have a taste for the finer things in life, and I shop at Aldi and wear gym shorts when I run out of boxers. The thread counts of the bedding seemed a chief concern, and I really didn't know that was a big deal, nor did I know how to spell duvet until Monday.
2. Dating the neighbor could be awkward, and the inevitable post-relationship run-ins would be even weirder. Also, between her 3 roomies and my 4, we have SEVEN roommates. Would we ever be alone together? Also, if things get weird between she and I, would I mess up having four, cute med-students to hang out with?
3. Why do she and I only hit it off one-on-one? Something is screwy about that, right?
I'm surely going to take a crack at both and see where my heart leads me, which will sort a lot of these things out, but I'd welcome some preliminary input, seven readers. All I know is I better enjoy this two girl "problem" while it lasts, because given the feast or famine nature of my love-life, the next two months could have me feeling like The Loneliest Leper TV series starring Scott Bakula.
*You can't beat that combination at Chicago's Pizza.
**Who says that? Nobody else at that bar, that's who. Thus proving I was too old to be in there.
***I've actually never heard that record, or any of their other work for more than a growling minute, but I know all their album titles and what the covers look like. Fucked With a Knife is one of their ditties . . .