[this is the old me. below is a story about the NEW me. still racist, less of a whore.]
last night i went on a pseudo-date (i’m only calling it a pseudo-date because it is impossible to find my blog if you only know my real name and i don’t think the guy who i got drinks with last night will ever find this and if he did he would definitely be weirded out by me calling our getting drinks even a pseudo-date) with a lawyer i met through my fiction-class friend. here is the problem with lawyers and anyone else who has more money than me ie almost everyone around here: when they offer to buy me drinks i have this automatic pride-reaction where i say, “oh no, let me get this one.”
this might be more effective if the rest of my conversation wasn’t about how i can barely afford groceries. or if i wasn’t consistently mistaken for a bag lady. or if i didn’t accept the cash the lawyer gave me at the end of the night which equaled more than even my portion of the drinks.
(a guy in a couple of my classes even offered to loan me money the other day which reminded me i need to stop making class announcements like, “i’m really poor so i couldn’t double space my story this week.”)
it’s all really pathetic and uncomfortable. discomfort which last night was only compounded by the fact that i started yelling about the cultural travesty that is the newer crash and then making odd comments about a guy in a wheelchair and then saying some vaguely racist things about native americans. i say native americans because the lawyer is, i think, indian. and don’t worry, i said racist things about indian indians when we hung out LAST time just to make sure i am feeling completely stupid all the time.
at one point the lawyer asked me what the capitol is of wyoming. i didn’t know it so i made some joke about extreme sports in pdx. (“x” right? for extreme?) the hipster bartender knew the capitol. not only am i poor, i am uneducated. the other thing the lawyer did,to be nice i’m sure, was try to discuss literature with me. i know it isn’t meant malevolently but i hate it when people are like, “you have a degree in english, right? have you read x?” because mostly i haven’t and then i just feel like a jerk. apparently i haven’t read anything. a lot of times i just nod and laugh like i KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT but a word of advice? ask me if i have read anything by lucy maude montgomery. then i might warm up to you and forget my financial straights. tell me oscar wilde was a libra though and i might just start crying.
all and all it was fun. the guy is nice and it was sort of funny to pretend like i was on a date which is something that doesn’t really ever happened. it’s helping me with my new second-wave me-movement where i am respectable instead of what some willamette week readers might call a dirty dirty slut.
now i am going to do my laundry and eat some vegetables. seriously. that’s how good i am being these days.