Target practice.


Nice little weekend last weekend (still playing catch-up here).  4 dates were had.  Friday night was with Ashley.  Before our first date, she had told me she was supposed to be moving to FL on March 1st.  She informed me last week though that she actually would be moving into her parents’ house here in MD for 2 weeks before heading down to FL for good.  Great, more QT.  And yes, I fully expect FL is a ploy to either move in with me, make me not judge her barren apartment, or most likely, steal my identity and life savings. I’m not lying when I say 3 separate times she has “joked” about me kidnapping her and keeping her here in md.  I’m so in love.

So we were supposed to grab some dinner Fri night, and then maybe a movie or something.  Well, she calls me up around 5:30 with a really depressed tone in her voice.  I have no idea what kind of bombshell she is about to drop on me; given the way she is acting, I’m expecting her dog died (or perhaps something much crazier). 

She instead tells me she still has so much to pack and she wasn’t sure if she could go out.  “No problem,” I say.  “We can just meet up tomorrow or Sunday.”  Meanwhile, I’m hoping she doesn’t say tomorrow because I’m already double-booked (yes, I’m using that term).  She throws this out there: “Or you can just grab some pizza and beer and come over to hang out with me while I pack.”  Quick pro and con check flashes through my head.  Pro: I like pizza.  Con: What if she asks me to help her move?  Pro: I like beer.  Con: I’m probably going to have to help her move.  Pro: It will be a cheap date.  Con: If I’m just watching her pack, it will be a boring date.  Pro: I’ll be at her place, if you catch my drift.  Con: I’ll be at her place, if you catch my drift (she may chop me into 1000 pieces).  “Sure, that sounds great.”

Then she mentions: “I hate to ask this, but how would you feel about my mom coming over to help me pack a few things too?”  This actually works out perfectly because if you’re going to eventually meet the parents, why not knock it out on the second date?  Ok fine, I should turn around and run in the opposite direction.  But what would be the fun in that?  “Not a problem, tell her to come over.”

I head over, and boxes and clothes and trinkets are everywhere.  This might take longer than I had hoped.  We sit down, start eating some pizza, she begins packing some stuff.  Maybe mom won’t show.  But then a knock on the door.  Oh well.  Good news though – it’s Mom AND Dad!  Am I supposed to propose now?  Even better, Mom isn’t in the best of shape, and Dad is like 60+ easy.  Looks like I’ll be lugging some boxes downstairs.  Which I do.  Mom says I’m welcome to visit anytime in Florida.  Lovely.  Well at least I now know the FL story wasn’t a complete lie, unless her parents are in on it too (entirely possible).

Fast forward a bit, the parents leave, we just stay in and hang out at her place.  God, this girl talks a hundred miles a minute.  Why do I like her again?  What’s wrong with me?  At this point, it’s getting pretty late.  3 am.  4 am.  Ok, now we may have a problem.  I have a date the next day at 12.  I’m not really sure if Ashley’s hoping or expecting me to stay over, but if I do, making it to that date is going to be dicey.  I’m in White Marsh.  I need to drive 30 min north to my place, shower, get changed, and then drive an hour south to Columbia to meet Julie by 12.  That means I’d need to wake up and scoot out by 9:30 or so.  That would involve coming up with an excuse, and then me probably botching it and getting caught in said lie.  Luckily at this point, the dog barks and wants to go for a walk.  We go outside, walk him for a bit, and then I use the chance to head home.  It’s 5 am.

I won’t go into nearly as much detail on Saturday and Sunday.  I got a few winks of sleep and made it in time to meet Julie by noon on Saturday.  She was a bust.  We hugged goodbye, start heading to our cars, and just when I’ve almost made it, for some reason, the last words I say are “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”  She says, “Sure, that would be great!”  Why did I say this?  I already knew I didn’t want to see her.  Going our separate ways might have made it clear enough, but yet I blurted out the words.  Ah well.

Saturday night was my date with Jamie.  This one’s our fourth.  I’m not crazy about her, but we have had a decent time when we’ve gone out.  I hate to give her one of the primetime slots at this point (I do in fact equate my dating schedule with TV programming), but no one else was available.  We go out, have fun, head back to her place, and then she drops the “I really like you, I just don’t want to get hurt.”  Aww crap.  I really didn’t think it would get to that point so fast.  Well I’m pretty sure I don’t feel the same way about her, so now I need to figure out how to cut bait on this one.  And then there were six.  4 dates doesn’t require an in-person break-up does it?

Sunday during the day was actually some me time for once.  Forgot what that was like.  Sunday night – back to Ashley.  Dinner and a movie.  Much less eventful, but still fun.  At the end of the night, she reveals that instead of 2 weeks in MD, it is now actually 3 weeks.  Hm, suspicious?  Maybe I’m just imagining this crazy thing after all.  She’s pretty cool.  She asks “So when can I see you again?”  I have so much schoolwork due this week it isn’t even funny, but you only live once.  Me: “How about tomorrow?”  Her: “I can’t do tomorrow.  I’ll be at the shooting range.  I love revolvers.”  Ok, she’s definitely crazy.  Even better that she knows how to wield a deadly weapon.  Me: “Ok, let’s meet up on Wednesday.”


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