Almost two weeks have passed since the cute lunch. They've been a pretty uneventful two weeks insofar as Mr. A is concerned, I'm going to be honest.
After I wrote my last post, literally that evening, he started chatting with me on the social network. He initiated it, in spite of the fact that I had seen him online earlier that day and felt compelled to start a witty banter. I resisted all of my keeno instincts and was rewarded with contact. The conversation we had was cute, snappy, and relevant to things we had previously discussed. It doesn't bear much more explanation.
I emailed him the next day at work (bad me, using work resources for my own personal ends), attaching an article about something we had discussed at lunch. He is not usually one to respond to work emails that are non-work related, so I wasn't really expecting anything. But he surprised me, and within the hour he had written a short response. We exchanged a few more emails regarding the topic at hand, and he sent me a link to a related video that he thought I might enjoy. Success!
The rest of the four day week passed with no contact. As I mentioned in my last post, the crazy had mostly passed, so I wasn't overly concerned. Then Good Friday rolled around. It was a 'good' Friday. I took advantage of the spectacular weather, and the best friend, another mate, and their fiance and husband, respectively, went to the park for a picnic. A boozey picnic. A very, very boozey picnic. By day's end us girls had shared four bottles of sparkling. Needless to say, I was trashed. And even walking home (unexpectedly) did little to sober me up.
I arrived home at around 6pm, and was incapable of doing much other than sitting on my couch watching tv and aimlessly staring at the internet. And that's how it began. I was having simultaneous chats on the social network with two of my lovely friends. I had thus far resisted the urge to 'drunk dial' or 'drunk text' Mr. A. I was pretty proud of my restraint, and was discussing said restraint with my friends when who should pop up online, but Mr. A.
I debated the appropriateness of 'drunk chatting,' for about five seconds. Then I plunged in headfirst. Let me just give you a snapshot of the brilliance that came from the tips of my fingers during this half hour long conversation:
It is now Monday, and I just sent him a message to let him know I'll be attending his show next weekend with some friends and asking if he'd be interested in a drink afterwards (me? a groupie? Never! Truly though, I'd like him even if he wasn't a comedian. He is just so goddamn cute and smart. He does it for me, it must be a chemical thing). I'm awaiting a response.
I'm kind of in this 'whatever will be, will be' frame of mind at the moment. It's not a bad place to be if I were to be honest. I have been single for a while now so whilst I am quite invested in trying to get this off the ground, I'm also used to being alone. It doesn't freak me out quite so much anymore (even if I do sometimes have Bridget Jones moments, convincing myself that I'll be alone forever and consuming my body weight in chocolate and alcohol. Good times).
The answer to the question in this post's title is still I'm really just not sure. I feel like I've been playing most of my cards right (in spite of minor hiccups like being a keeno, snorting, and drunk chatting), and I'm just waiting around to see what happens. I'll be sure to keep you posted (did you like what I did there? Posted? Hahahahaha. I'm so hilarious. Maybe I should be a comedian.... Hmmmm, something to think about).
Still ridiculously overexcited about dogs generally,
B. J. Barnes
P. S. Happy belated Easter! On a related note, I have eaten so many mini easter eggs this weekend that I feel like my body must be at least 50% chocolate right now. God I love mini easter eggs.
After I wrote my last post, literally that evening, he started chatting with me on the social network. He initiated it, in spite of the fact that I had seen him online earlier that day and felt compelled to start a witty banter. I resisted all of my keeno instincts and was rewarded with contact. The conversation we had was cute, snappy, and relevant to things we had previously discussed. It doesn't bear much more explanation.
I emailed him the next day at work (bad me, using work resources for my own personal ends), attaching an article about something we had discussed at lunch. He is not usually one to respond to work emails that are non-work related, so I wasn't really expecting anything. But he surprised me, and within the hour he had written a short response. We exchanged a few more emails regarding the topic at hand, and he sent me a link to a related video that he thought I might enjoy. Success!
The rest of the four day week passed with no contact. As I mentioned in my last post, the crazy had mostly passed, so I wasn't overly concerned. Then Good Friday rolled around. It was a 'good' Friday. I took advantage of the spectacular weather, and the best friend, another mate, and their fiance and husband, respectively, went to the park for a picnic. A boozey picnic. A very, very boozey picnic. By day's end us girls had shared four bottles of sparkling. Needless to say, I was trashed. And even walking home (unexpectedly) did little to sober me up.
I arrived home at around 6pm, and was incapable of doing much other than sitting on my couch watching tv and aimlessly staring at the internet. And that's how it began. I was having simultaneous chats on the social network with two of my lovely friends. I had thus far resisted the urge to 'drunk dial' or 'drunk text' Mr. A. I was pretty proud of my restraint, and was discussing said restraint with my friends when who should pop up online, but Mr. A.
I debated the appropriateness of 'drunk chatting,' for about five seconds. Then I plunged in headfirst. Let me just give you a snapshot of the brilliance that came from the tips of my fingers during this half hour long conversation:
- I advised him immediately that I was drunk (I felt full disclosure was the best way to go in this scenario. Plus, he had probably already seen my drunken status update in which I had declared to the social network community that I was, in fact, drunkedy drunk);
- I told him that I had to make my bed up, as sober me had decided to wash the sheets earlier in the morning. He made a joke about how he had drunkenly done this once and ended up sleeping on a sheetless part of his bed wrapped in a pillowcase. It was very funny. Even more so because I was wasted. I then said that I was very tempted to screw the bed making and build a pillow/blanket fort in my loungeroom and camp there for the night;
- This prompted him to lament the fact that he did not live alone. He then told me he was alone that evening, except for his dog;
- DOG!!!!!!!!! He lives with a DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE DOGS!!!!!! This was the level of excitement that I displayed regarding his live in dog. Actually, it was that level of excitement times ten. The dog belongs to his flatmate. His flatmate is gorgeous, but unfortunately gay (unfortunate for me, not for all of the very lucky men who swing that way. I want to set him up with my brother, but that's probably not going to happen). In defence of my excitement, Mr. A did little to temper it. He sent me pictures of the dog (an adorable little white, fluffy thing) wearing outfits! OUTFITS!!! A DOG in OUTFITS!!! Really, it's like handing a junkie a kilo of their drug of choice and saying, go crazy! Or leaving a massive cake in a room with an unsupervised child (I totally just thought of the Hyperbole and a Half post about cake. If you haven't read it, do yourself a favour, it is absolutely brilliant- http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com.au/2010/10/god-of-cake.html). In short, my excitement and overall thankfulness were unavoidable after receiving pictures. I feel like he knew that this state of hyperexcitement would be the result of his actions, and found it kind of amusing. I probably give him some great material; and
- He made the comment that he supposed I really, really liked dogs, and wondered if they were up there with Ireland and sparkling wine. This prompted me to list some of my favourite things, That's right, I drunkenly made a list of my favourite things for a guy that I have a massive crush on, and super high hopes for. Well done me, crazy, as always.
It is now Monday, and I just sent him a message to let him know I'll be attending his show next weekend with some friends and asking if he'd be interested in a drink afterwards (me? a groupie? Never! Truly though, I'd like him even if he wasn't a comedian. He is just so goddamn cute and smart. He does it for me, it must be a chemical thing). I'm awaiting a response.
I'm kind of in this 'whatever will be, will be' frame of mind at the moment. It's not a bad place to be if I were to be honest. I have been single for a while now so whilst I am quite invested in trying to get this off the ground, I'm also used to being alone. It doesn't freak me out quite so much anymore (even if I do sometimes have Bridget Jones moments, convincing myself that I'll be alone forever and consuming my body weight in chocolate and alcohol. Good times).
The answer to the question in this post's title is still I'm really just not sure. I feel like I've been playing most of my cards right (in spite of minor hiccups like being a keeno, snorting, and drunk chatting), and I'm just waiting around to see what happens. I'll be sure to keep you posted (did you like what I did there? Posted? Hahahahaha. I'm so hilarious. Maybe I should be a comedian.... Hmmmm, something to think about).
Still ridiculously overexcited about dogs generally,
B. J. Barnes
P. S. Happy belated Easter! On a related note, I have eaten so many mini easter eggs this weekend that I feel like my body must be at least 50% chocolate right now. God I love mini easter eggs.
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