So later, I ranted about it in my blog, clearly having completely forgotten I’d told her about it. When I look back on it, I should have known, because usually, I blog about the dates I have, and there was empty space where her entries should be.
Anyway, I already wrote a poem about this, but in a nutshell, she read it, (oops), and we started talking again. It was apparent that we both still liked each other. “Liked” is the keyword here, because it isn’t clear that it will ever be anything more.
On Thursday, I asked her out again, and her answer was “I don’t know. I read your blog.” This matches the first response I got from Nurse Betty verbatim. And I just thought to myself, “Okay, that’s it. I’ve had it. No more telling the women that I’m interested in about my blog.” While I enjoy my blog, as presumably do you, my reader(s), it has had a tendency to poison my chances with any woman that reads it.
Scarlet doesn’t believe me when I say I’m interested in her, because I still talk about Betty. She thinks that I’m desperate and that I’d go out with just about anybody. I’m not convinced we share the same definition of desperate. The fact that I’m looking for a girlfriend does not make me desperate, or if it does, then I know an awful lot of desperate people. A lot of lonely people too. And since I know you’re reading this, I might as well address you in first person.
Yes, I’m interested in finding a girlfriend, and yes, I’ve tried my luck with several others before you. Yes, I haven’t had a girlfriend in a long time, and yes, I still miss my ex tremendously. Yes, I still *like* Betty. I want to talk to her again. I want her to be my friend like before, because there really aren’t so many people whose company I enjoy quite as much as hers, and fewer still who like sushi as much as I do. You’d think more people would like sushi. Yes, I fell very hard for her, but that was after you turned me down. Yes, I don’t know everything about you. How well is well-enough? How do you know I don’t already know enough to be interested? Yes, I’m impatient. Yes, I’m using the word ‘yes’ too much, and yes, I’m interested in you.
I think you’re smart, I think you’re pretty, I think you’re fun to be with, and if you give me excuses, I can only conclude that you don’t feel the same way about me. And that’s fine. But don’t tell me I’m desperate, and don’t tell me I’m not interested in you, because I may be no genius, but I’m not stupid.