The Dapper Lad

Welcome to beautiful Boulder, CO. Yesterday it was 84 balmy degrees. But as night fell, clouds came over the mountains, and we woke this morning to nature’s shit storm: rainy snow.

On average, this happens weekly. We have a beautiful, sunny, warm day, and the next is cold and snowy. Then we slowly get back to warm and sunny, only to have it snow again. At this rate, my flight to New York in June might very well get delayed due to weather. 

So yeah, happy f-ing May Day. Scarves and sweaters it is!

A while back, I made a bet with a certain person (*cough* dswidler *cough*) that if I kissed a girl while in Colorado, I would have to drive through the streets of Seattle, topless.

HERE’S THE THING: If I didn’t, he would have to do the same thing. I know. I must have been drunk when I made that bet.

I might have tried to wiggle out of it by saying it didn’t count if I kissed a girl on stage, but frankly that doesn’t feel quite…right to me. Just now, I kissed a girl twice! On stage! No tongue (that’s starting to be a theme around here), but I feel I have to ‘fess up.

Swidler, I kissed a girl.

And I don’t know when I’ll be in town again. Sorry!

This is not the best week for trying to pursue someone you’d like to date. This is not the best week to feel like a grad-school failure. This is not the best week to disappoint your advisors. This is not the best week to realize you have one day left to apply for a scholarship that will determine how much, exactly, you will end up owing the people who raised you. 

No, this week belongs to the Jayhawks. Hell, the whole year belongs to the Jayhawks. I think the Chinese Zodiac is officially changing it: Year of the Jayhawk. 

However, all those other things above? They’re happening, best week or not. So yeah, the Jayhawks won. Life would be worse if they hadn’t. And in the last 12 seconds of regulation time that I caught, life looked like it was about to go down the crapper. I would’ve taken to bed and not left until the Jayhawks won again. But overtime saved all those nice young men (shhh) — and me — from a lonely, depressing existence.

Hooray. Now I can concentrate on dating, music, music and money. But, unfortunately, probably not in that order. 

I have to admit: I didn’t even watch the first 12 minutes of last night’s KU game. It was partially for schedule reasons, but truth be told, after the nail-biting Davidson game, I was glad to miss it. I was feeling superstitious, like my boys would just do better if I weren’t watching. But then they were up by ridiculous amounts, and I felt okay watching the game. And then they won! I celebrated by drinking. That’s standard, right?

I will miss tomorrow’s game. (Not my fault — I have rehearsal.) Again, though, I think my boys can do it without me. Lord knows they did it without — and in front of — Roy Williams. Bill Self’s been good, very good, for this team. It’s been five years, but he’s got them back into the final game. Last time they won it all, in 1988, our 4th grade class walked up the hill to Memorial stadium to welcome the Jayhawks home, chanting “Rock Chalk Jayhawk” the whole way. 

Oh, Jeebus. I’m nervous. 

Gentlemen, Ladies, I am an idiot. For the second time in my life, I laughed at the beginning of a romantic… situation. I’m all for a shared joke during sex, when things are, you know, easily heightened by an inside joke. But, let’s be honest, the beginning – the first introduction, the first kiss – of any romantic situation, whether it ends 2 hours or 2 years later, is not the best time for laughter.

Granted, the first time I laughed inappropriately was in high school when a cute boy asked me out in the middle of the hallway amongst our friends and I FELL DOWN I laughed so hard. Nothing could ever be that embarrassing (for either of us) or that hilarious (just for me) again. No, last night, I merely giggled when the man I leaned in to hug turned his face just so to be able to kiss me. I was tipsy, I’d waited two weeks for him to make a move, he’d walked me to my car, we were saying goodnight…it all added up to a hilarious cliché, and I succumbed to the giggles.

I can’t even really remember the kiss. From what I recall, it was nothing to write home about (no tongue, which is when I start composing letters). No, what I’m writing about is the fact that twenty-four hours later, two weeks after meeting this guy, I still don’t know if I want to kiss him again. I was convinced, in fact, twenty-eight hours ago, that (while I was sure he was into me) I Just Wanted To Be Friends, and that as such, I should not call him, text him, Facebook him, MySpace him, etc., as that could only confuse the situation. I got the same answer from the 7 people I polled. Everyone was convinced: the ball was in his court.

But the more people I asked, the more I started thinking that perhaps I was not convinced. Maybe I liked him. Maybe I liked him liking me. Maybe all I wanted was the attention. And the question here is: What the hell is wrong with that? Well, we’re all adults. I think we know the answer to that question.

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