I had a Carrie Bradshaw moment tonight. At approximately 8:03 p.m., I walked into my apartment and threw my stuff on the floor. It was no different than any other Monday night, post Bible Study. I scooped my little Bastard off the floor and fumbled for the remote control with my other hand, in anticipation of Hills drama.
At the same time, I realized I'd forgotten to run to Walgreens to fill a prescription for eye drops, given to me by my eye doctor today. On a completely related subject (you'll see), I went to the eye doctor today to fix my ailing pupil and didn't run into Dr. McEyeCandy---but I did feast my eyes on a new intern, curiously minus a wedding ring, and just as flirty as the aforementioned McEyeCandy.
Anyway, my story isn't about my shamelessly coquettish encounters with doctors in my PPO network. My story is about how I meet a guy, we share a moment, and then he drops the bomb on me, eradicating all hope that our moment may evolve into plurality.
Remember when Carrie met Jack Berger? It's in an episode from season 5 called "Plus One is the Loneliest Number." Carrie is meeting with her publicist, when Jack pops in. They make introductions, and the two of them leave together, walking around the city aimlessly, yet deliberately. They share witty conversation, and reading the signals, Carrie asks Berger to be her "plus one" at her book release party. Berger stammers, mentions that he has other plans with his girlfriend's parents, annnnnnnnnnnd scene!
Later at lunch, Carrie tells her friends that "it was one of those great first dates that you can only have when its not an actual date," and that she and Jack "sparked." She laments that things were great, and then he began to drop bombs on her--not only does he have a girlfriend, but he's living with her, and so on and so forth. One explosion right after the next, when moments ago, there were sparks.
Back to my life---tonight, I left my house to go to Walgreens. I dropped my prescription at the drive-thru window, and then headed over to Borders to kill half-an-hour. I'll be honest and say that I've been cruising a cute Borders employee for about a month now. He's completely my type: a nerdy-dirty mountain man. He wears glasses. Nerdy, check! He's got a scruffy beard. Dirty, check! Tonight, I learn that he's from Colorado. Seriously? Mountain man, check!
I'd flirted with him several times before, but never made it past a five minute conversation at point-of-purchase. I didn't see him when I walked in tonight. I was disappointed, but whatever. After some time spent browsing, I walked over to the gifts/journal section. My back was turned, and I heard someone walk up and ask if he could help me find anything. I wheeled around, and it was him. And I answered no. But then I stopped myself---and said, "wait--you can help me! I'm looking for a book about buying a house."
I'll fast forward through the dance, but it went something like this: guy and girl make conversation in the bookstacks, they laugh, they laugh some more, they smile, they spark. Guy tells girl that he used to own a house, girl asks for his extensive expertise, and then guy says, "when I was married." BAM! Ok, girl recovers. So he's a damaged goods---I can pick up the pieces. Afterall, I'm not getting any younger, and the dating pool is rapidly shrinking.
Then guy says, "I spent one summer at a Buddhist monastery." BAM! "I'm moving to China." BAM-BAM-BAM! My excitement wilted rather quickly. I stood there with my copies of Passion and Purity and Sex God tucked under my arm, as he told me that everything is so complicated and that he doesn't know what he is looking for in life.
Forty-five minutes later, I left the building. I was still giddy. I am still giddy.
Sure, maybe I'd still date him. In fact, I'd like to date him. But what's a Christian girl to do when her Buddhist boy toy places his hope and faith in a bald man with a big belly?
I'm sure this story will continue, as my weekly trips to my local Borders will continue. And maybe next time, I'll learn his name...
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