Monday, November 13, 2006
Will someone ever like-like me?
I had a really nice weekend. Let that be said before I start to rant. Got to see three great friends (one new, one medium new and one certified classic). The rain held off for much of Sunday. I mulled cider. I made pasta sauce. There were no dishes left over in my sink come Monday morning. I got to read aloud, which is fun and doesn't happen very often (I should've just been a librarian; that would've probably cured me of this desire). K. and I had an autumn-in-New-York moment on Irving Place. (Castles in Spain need not apply.) We finally ate/drank at Wine Bar attached to Vintage New York in Soho (wine: thumbs up; food: bland and not all that exciting). I went back to Old Navy and got what was coming to me (my full 20% discount). H. and I had yummy omelets (asparagus, swiss and salmon) at Viceroy in Chelsea. I started a new book by my new favorite author, Alain de Botton (thank you, public radio). Oh, yeah, I forgot to rant. Well, maybe things aren't as bad as I was going to make them out to be. I started this entry planning on complaining about how frustrated I've been with dating recently. And I have been. But I guess my reluctant optimism somehow managed to get in the middle, and instead I've ticked off some happy memories, even if at the end of the day I don't have anyone to dream about marrying and having kids with, like I wish I did sometimes. People used to make fun of me at work because I'd say how much I wanted to be married. And if I ever do get married, I'll probably look back on these feelings and laugh at how anxious I was to move onto the next stage of life. But I can't help feeling like lots of people have started their adult lives with someone they love, and I'm stuck in this protracted teenager-hood, where I'm doomed to have one person after another tell me they like me, but don't like-like me. Well, see, I did manage a little bit of rant, although I did it in the wrong order, no? I guess I was supposed to begin with the frustrations of being lonely, and then move onto the counting-the-blessings part. [Redacted] ... constant chatter about the theater world makes me go and do things like buy a full-priced ticket to Tom Stoppard's The Coast of Utopia: Voyage, which -- if I like it -- will no doubt make it harder for me to resist seeing parts II and III of this new epic. I probably shouldn't even be writing this, as my ticket reservation hasn't yet been confirmed, and I might not even get a seat, according to the automated e-mail I just got. We'll see. That said: This seems like the perfect time to remind myself of the mantra of the New York theatergoer with limited means or time: "You'll never be able to see everything. Neither will most other people."