Friday, September 23, 2005
Chet and I haven't talked all week. It's more than vaguely stupid, since this was really Carter's fight with Chet, but if you look at it as an argument rather than a fight, I was more in agreement with Carter than Chet. When you get right down to it, there really isn't a lot of romance between us. We have fun, we laugh a lot, but if you count up the times he's kissed me, for instance, it's almost always when someone else is looking as opposed to some private moment of intimacy, like he's got something to prove to the world at large. And I'm always the one to initiate sex. Always. As Carter put it, you've got to wonder about a guy when it's never his idea to sleep with me.
So, there's that. I also haven't scheduled any more interviews. It's not just nervousness over how to handle the whole me thing; a lot of tech-type jobs are out in the suburbs, and ideally I'd like to not ride the bus for an hour every morning. I know beggars can't be choosers, but I'm not quite in begging territory. Being a receptionist doesn't pay well, but it's regular and easy and not likely enough for now. I recognize that jobs in the city are more desirable and so will have more competition, and I'm at a disadvantage because of the two-year gap on my résumé and the need to convince people that they're hiring Martin Hartle, kind of, but I don't have to take a job that wears on me.
Yet. The roommate hunt is getting kind of frantic. When the lease runs out next year, I'm finding myself a nice quiet single or studio, because despite how great a roommate Maureen can be when she's not talking about Jesus, the uncertainty is crazy-making. I talked to three more folks this week.
Ramkamur is an MIT grad student. He's from India, crashing with friends right now, and promises to have such a busy schedule that I'd almost never see him. I'd feel a little more comfortable if he had a girlfriend, though. Spent a lot of time checking me out. Don't get me wrong, I like being checked out, most of the time. I'm just not sure I want it going on 24/7 at home, is all. His reaction to being told about me and the mind-switching was to laugh and say I should be a writer.
Celine is a bit older than me - by which I mean mid-thirties. She's in the middle of a divorce and works at a nearby pottery place, so she's kind of more arts-and-craftsy than most of the folks I know. Really nice, though, and fairly likely be able to pay the rent on time each month, since she said she was looking at singles, too, but after being married for eight years isn't quite ready to live alone yet; she just doesn't want to live with men. "About that..." She finds what I'm saying unbelievable until I give her Agent Jones's number. I don't think I'd mind living with her, if I haven't spooked her. The only real drawback is that she appears to like offering the benefit of her expeience, so to speak, and I'd have to occasionally remind her that she's only got five years on me, not ten.
Gertie looks like the most likely subject right now. She's a Harvard campus cop, availing herself of night courses to work on a criminology degree. Mid-twenties, taller than Jen, brownish hair, trim figure. She's trying to reduce her commute (Malden) and find a new place because her current roommate is getting married in October. She, like, quizzed me when I told her about myself; I think she got even more attached to the mystery than Mags did. I imagine having a roommate who looks at you like a puzzle could get old after a while, but she seems pretty cool. Likes videogames and sports a whole heck of a lot more than Maureen, so I'd likely have someone to do that with. She's got a boyfriend, but it's kind of a long-distance thing right now, since he's in the Navy.
So, right now it's looking like it's between them and, curiously, Eve, who at least hasn't called back to say "don't consider me" yet, although I'm clearly not her first choice - I called her yesterday and she's apparently got her eye on some other place but if that falls through... Not great for the self-esteem, but not devastating, either.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Not broken up, but...
It started last weekend, and that fight was probably my fault. Chet and I were talking about how Kurt had proposed to Denise, and he was asking if that was weird for me. A little, I said, but I've had other exes get married. Besides, if not for all the weird stuff, we'd probably be celebrating their first anniversery around now. Hell, I probably would have been best man at the wedding. But it's sweet, I say, laying my head on his shoulder - they really love each other and weren't afraid to swallow their pride despite all the me-related crap that their relationship got hit with.
He kind of smiles, and says he hopes I don't plan to get married any time soon. And I, true to my history of saying stupid things when the subject of matrimony comes up, say "no, I don't see us getting married".
I can be such a complete ass. What I meant, at the time, honest, is that I don't see myself getting married. Putting on a white dress, having the discussion over whether or not to change my name, wearing a ring that says I'm taken, joint ownership of stuff... I recognize that I'm a hypocrite, because this stuff didn't bother me in my last life, but, hey, I'm not quite Martin.
And I say that, but then he's all "so, you're sure I won't change your mind". When just minutes before he was the one who was poo-poo-ing the whole idea of getting married. And I'm like, well, maybe if our relationship becomes more of a traditional boy-girl thing. Then he's like, well, it was pretty boy-girl last night, wasn't it And by this time I'm pissed, because I get pissed off easily, especially when someone seems to be changing his or her position just for the sake of arguing, so I ask whether he figures to marry every girl he sleeps writh, rather than say something not quite honest about his performance. It's a stupid argument, and I know it's stupid, and it doesn't last much longer. I think the fact that I at no point talked about us moving in together once I knew Mo was moving out factored in too.
So, OK, we cool down. Then this weekend, we're hanging around with Kate and Carter - we were going to see a movie, but we missed it, and there was nothing playing that none of us had seen, so we were just walking around - and I don't even remember where the conversation was going, but Chet sort of jokingly calls me his little freak or something, and Carter doesn't take it well. It's a word he can use but others can't, you see. So he goes off on Chet, Chet recalls that Kate was the one who thought he was gay, and it gets ugly. We all say stupid things, and...
Screw it. I don't want to talk about it right now.