Any Day Now

The date Friday didn't go so great.  Not to say that it wasn't enjoyable.  It was.  It was just enjoyable in the way that spending time with your brother is enjoyable.  We got drinks to-go and walked up and down Magazine street, talking about comedians and psychology.  Lots of laughs, unstilted conversation, no chemistry.

I went on another date this past Monday with a different guy.  He was tall and in pretty good shape.  He made me laugh.  He knew about interesting things, and we had no trouble talking.  But as lovely as he was, and as much as he liked me, and as good of a time as I had, I just couldn't get into it.  We still text, but I have to force myself to participate.

Tonight, I "broke up" with a Tinder pen pal, a guy that I've been talking to over text for the better part of the last week.  He's clever.  And funny.  Ambitious.  All things that I like.  But I found myself annoyed by him, by small and significant things alike.  The arguments he made ("it's hard to get ahead as a white male") and the words he chose to use (jokingly calling me "sweetheart" once) and the frequent use of the abbreviation "lol" (he can't possibly laugh out loud that much).  Upon his semi-serious suggestion that we wouldn't like each other in person anyway, I told him that we should probably just stop talking and save ourselves the effort, then.  Hours of conversation, and not the slightest hesitation at getting him out of my hair.  If I didn't like him, why'd I invest at all?

I suppose all of this points to the grand likelihood that I'm just not ready to date again, not yet.

It's kind of a shame.  After J and I broke up, jumping back into dating was fun and exciting.  I was ready to meet new people and find someone that I really liked.

These days, I just miss B, and I take it out on all the guys I meet.

It's not fair, really.  To anybody.  But that's the way it is.

On the bright side, I returned to work this week, and as such, I have renewed purpose and things to keep me busy.  And wonderful colleagues that make working a significantly more palatable experience.

It's been exhausting, though.  After two months of laying on my living room floor reading books, my body is having trouble adjusting to 8-10 hour work days.    I came home yesterday completely beat, to the point that I nearly fell into bed and gave up on the night.  I worked ten hours today, mostly walking around and moving things, and the feeling is approximately the same as I sit here and type.  I was supposed to get a snowball with a guy tonight, but it fell through, and it's probably for the best (see prior note about current bitchiness toward men).

Somehow, despite the short time before school officially begins (approx. 4 days), I have been surprisingly calm.  I mean, there's stress.  Don't get me wrong.  There's always stress.  But considering the fact that we changed discipline plans yesterday, and that I walked into my room this morning to find everything in one large heap against a wall, I'd say that I'm doing alright.  I've still got a crazy large amount to do, but my classroom setup is nearly finished, and I've got a general plan for the first week of school.  Maybe the eighth year of teaching is when I finally know what I'm doing?  Maybe I won't have to work on Saturday?

Don't worry, I'm not getting my hopes up.


Sorry to keep the post short tonight, but the bed is calling my name, and I need a few minutes to relax away from a computer screen before I attempt to relinquish consciousness.  Tomorrow brings plenty of things to do, a night of fun with co-workers, and the prospect of a couple of days that nearly resemble a weekend.  Bring it on.