The best part of the weekend by far was seeing Harry Potter with A on Friday night. It was just wonderful, and I can't wait to resume reading the books. I wish I weren't just a Muggle... And I concur with Natalia, Snape was fine. Mmmmmm.... Alan Rickman... yummmmmy.
Unfortunately, the rest of the weekend was not so yummy. D and I had our second date Saturday night, and it was a hot-and-cold, or rather a lukewarm-and-cold, affair. I can't read him. One moment he's confiding in me, the next he's implying that his "issues" make a relationship impractical for him. (Which makes me want to ask him why he put an ad in the "relationship" section of the website in the first place.) One moment he's saying he's tired and needs to call it a night at 9 pm, the next he's talking with me in the parking lot for an hour and a half. No goodnight kiss... wouldn't the vast majority of red-blooded American males have tried one by now, even if the girl weren't that cute? Unfortunately, I have no answers, and my quest for useful information has led me into a couple of Dumbass Moments (and really, you don't have to tell me this makes me look like a stalker, I already know, much to my humiliation):
Dumbass Moment #1:
Twenty minutes after the date, I called him all full of fire and ready to tell him he's not obligated to spend time with me if he doesn't want to, but something got lost in the translation from my brain to my mouth:
Me: Did you have a good time? You seemed bored.
Him: No, I had a good time.
Me: Good. I'll talk to you later.
The humiliation of this moment sent me into a spectacular mood-swing best not discussed at this time.
Dumbass Moment #2:
Despite lots of good advice, my own best judgment, and a Post-It note in my own handwriting affixed to my cell, I called him tonight, full of similar resolve, which of course evaporated as I held the phone in my hand. He answered with a cheery "Hi Kelly!!" which had me convinced he was happy to hear from me, then announced a minute into the conversation that he had company and couldn't talk now. I told him to call me when it was convenient (mentally beating my head against a brick wall) and hung up, thoroughly demoralized.
It's all in his court now, like I guess it always was. A told me that there's a natural order to things, man pursues girl, and didn't understand why I got so upset. Of course I'm upset! I'm used to controlling my own life, and to be told that in this crucial area I must stand to the side like a supporting character in a Jane Austen novel to see who asks me to dance is humiliating and dehumanizing!!!
Sigh. One of these days...