so those of you who read my last entry are probably asking the question:
"whatever happened to peanut butter m&ms?"
well, thats a good question, and i would love to answer it, but instead i think i am going to pick up where i left off last night.
i called her.
my palms were sweaty, my voice was cracky but i called her.
"hello?"
"em-emi-emily?"
"yes"
"this is ryan, you cut my hair yesterday"
"oh" her voice brightens "hi."
and so began a conversation that ended with me asking her out to lunch, and she saying yes.
the date was at four thirty.
i showed up at four.
i paced the halls of the mall until around four twenty four, wherein i actually walked over to her store.
there she was sweeping up hair. she wore her hair down today, i've never seen it wore down. she looked amazing.
i quickly walked past her store.
leaning against the escalator railing, i gave myself a quick pep talk before trying again.
i ended up walking by her store three times before going in.
i hadnt been this simultanously nervous and hopeful since star wars episode one came out.
i was scared of being dissapointed, or even worse being a dissapointment.
now, if you have read this diary for any period of time you will probably know that dates and i do not get along.
i hate them.
they hate me.
its a mutual hatred.
one reason being that i havent found someone who could keep my interest conversationally.
what usually happens on dates is that i usually become bored, spiteful or insecure. alot of times a good mixture of all three.
when this happens i usually take to entertaining myself, i do this by making fun of the girl in my mind and then writing about it on here.
i didnt want that to be what happened with emily.
when it comes to small talk, i am an artist.
my mind works like a machine creating open ended questions like "Jesus and buddha. which one would win in a fist fight? what if martial arts were allowed? etc..."
but my problem has been that the date usually doesnt respond well.
they either think i am funny
(which makes me feel nice, but somehow above them)
or they think i am a loser
(clearly putting themselves above me.)
either way, no romance takes place.
not so with emily.
we talked, seriously, about the pros and cons of having hair transplants done on your feet for a really long time.
she thinks that shoes are still the better option,
whereas i think that if the hair was braidable it would make for a nice alternative to foot wear.
so the date was nice- minus, of course, my paranoia of eating in front of people. i held a napkin in front of my mouth as i chewed.- but there was still the test.
in the movie "a bronx tale" (robert de niro, 1993) one of the guys gives a younger less experienced guy a test to see if a girl is worth one's time.
the test: open the car door for her and walk slowly around the car to your side. if she reaches over and unlocks the door for you, she is a keeper. if not, you need to kick her to the curb.
in all honesty i didnt think about the test, until i saw her pass it.
and i, at this point, am not sure where i am going with this story, or even if it makes sense at all. thats why i am summing it up right now.
date good.
emily wonderful.
me happy.
on sunday we are going swing dancing.
if i was smart i would try to learn how to swing dance before sunday.
but since i am not, i am going to watch "swing kids" and hope for the best.
1:59 a.m. - 2004-09-15
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
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