9:45am in the costume shop… and I’m scrolling through Facebook to kill time.
Maybe I’ll close the costume shop at 5pm today…
Date: February 4, 2016
Days Spent on Project: 1079
Location: NW Portland, OR
Person I would have sent it to: TBD
Music I listened to while sewing: Another week, another “Discover Weekly” Playlist on Spotify to digest. So far, I’ve liked a song called “Young Wild” by a group called FMLYBND.
Who thinks of these names?
Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: Well, the man who flirted with me the other night. It didn’t go anywhere. In true Portland fashion, a woman came over and interrupted us… wanting to talk to me about my “adorable and handsome and cute” dog that she “just wanted to snuggle and play with.” While I tried to politely tried to end that conversation, the guy wandered off again. (Meanwhile, my dog was having none of the attention from the woman.)
I told a co-worker about this Major Life Event yesterday morning. His response was priceless: “In Portland, get prepared to get cock-blocked by straight women.”
That might be mean. But it’s funny. Because it seems true.
Anyway, I went on a date last night, too. I finally scrounged up the courage to ask a guy out for drinks that I had been chatting to and trying to flirt with for the past few months. In the end, fine! A round of drinks at a nice bar. A night kinda-out. Nice to meet someone new who has no connection to theater.
But I was reminded of my friend Kanae from grad school, who went on a date with a classmate surreptitiously. The next morning, pestered by more than a few questions and metaphorical high-fives, she admitted that it was okay but she didn’t feel the butterflies. So that was that.
It’s strange that I know think of that when I think about guys and dates and second dates and other dates.
Nice, but no butterflies?
Are there ever butterflies?
Do we make our own butterflies? Force the butterflies to appear? Imagine the butterflies?
Do we feel something? Can we feel something?
Anyway, either way, whichever way… I don’t know if I sound or feel or am jaded a bit.
I don’t think I am. I don’t want to be.
Is it okay to feel… not that much about someone?