Non-dating Story #289 / by vanessa

I've written before about my paltry dating life. It's not that I don't want to date, it's just that I'm completely opposed to it. Dre, on the other hand, is up for the challenge, and has set a monthly goal for herself. In general, I'm against over-achievers.

So last night, I was supposed to meet Dre at The Edison to watch the elections. By 8 p.m. I was still holed up in my cubicle, obsessively checking poll results on CNN because Young B, the hyper-driven wunderkind who works for me, decided that last night, ELECTION night, was as good a night as any to stay late and produce documents that will be antiquated within a week. (Note to self: Maim Young B.) Because I have no work/life balance to speak of, I stayed to get my own stuff done, and support him in his self-destructive habits. Finally though, I made the boy leave.

By the time I got downtown, a long line had formed outside of the bar, and probably 50 of us were huddled in the alley waiting for space inside to open up. By this time, Obama had won and he was about to give his speech. Fortunately, this cool guy in front of me in line, (Josh, as it turns out), got the speech on his cell phone. About 8 of us crowded around to listen. It was a bonding experience -- the kind that bridges distance between total strangers, the kind that unites us as Americans. Plus the proximity of bodies kept hypothermia at bay.

Anyway so Josh and I hung out, it was fun, and then finally we got in. We separated at that point, and I didn't run into him again until we saw each other dancing to re-mixed 80s songs. (Ain't too proud.) We were making small talk, and I hadn't thought about where "this" was going until...

Josh: So, how come your boyfriend's not out with you?
(Dude, lame. Why don't you just ask "Do you have a boyfriend?")
Me: Ummm, he died last week. It was very sad.
Josh: *mouth drops to his chest* Oh my God, I am SO sorry.
Me: (Oh. Right. He didn't get it.) Dude, I'm kidding.
Josh: That's horrible.
(Apparently people don't see the humor in make-belief deaths.)
Me: Sorry. Sometimes I think I'm funny and then I realize that I'm the only one.
Josh: That's not funny. It's just a really good way to get people not to talk to you.
(What, are you my shrink now, Josh? Ixnay on the psycho-analysis.)
Me: *graciously attempting to turn the conversation around* So, how come your girlfriend's not out with you?
Josh: I don't have a girlfriend.
Me: Are you sure she just didn't die last week?

And with that he stopped talking to me. I saw him later that night with a Solid Gold dancer.

In fairness, had I been attracted to him, I probably would have been a little more conscious of conversational mores and social gaffes. Having a crush makes you conscious of shit like that. But, I'm also one of those people with little forethought, so the likelihood that I could have prevented and/or will prevent this kinda thing from happening in the future is slim. Which is why I think it's best I join a nunnery.