I take off everything having to do with my work uniform. I'm delighted to find that even though I got dressed in a sleepy stupor before sunrise, I still managed to match my underwear to my bra. It makes me feel pretty. I put off finding something else to put on.
I turn on my TV. It's on a Cinemax station from this morning; it's playing Ninja Assassin. Acceptable.
I sit down at my computer and poke around my usual haunts. Gmail, Twitter, Facebook. The fbook tells me the boy I liked from my play this summer is doing his college radio show right now. There's a link to listen. I click it. It loads. I put Ninja Assassin on mute.
It's playing an interesting one-guy one-guitar cover of Hey Ya. I like it, but I already knew that I really like his taste in music. Then he talks. I'm tickled by how much I like hearing his voice. There's something kind of cool about the fact that I'm listening to him and he doesn't know it. He plays another cool song I haven't heard before. I decide to get a beer.
My roommates aren't home, so I don't have to put clothes on to head into the kitchen. I uncap my beer and read the playful banter on the white board about whose turn it is to buy paper towels. I cancel the lingering, frozen 46 seconds on the microwave. Pet peeve.
Back in my room, another cool song is playing and Ninja Assassin has its credits rolling. I think about how cool I think this kid is, and I say out loud the first lines of one of my favorite monologues. "You're so neat. You're such a neat guy. I wish I would've known you when I was little."
I had planned to walk into Silver Spring and see a movie alone. I haven't gotten around to looking up what's playing or at what times. After Ninja Assassin's credits there's a promotional interview for "127 Hours" with Danny Boyle and James Franco. I turn down the radio show and listen to the interview. Right before coming home I'd run into my ex and we were talking about this movie.
I take a second to evaluate the encounter with the ex, now that it really is concluded. Talk about the movie was fine. I can't recall anything I said that was overtly stupid. I think my hair looked okay. Everything was fine. I heroically resisted teasing him about getting back together with his ex, which he did earlier in the week. I was poised, confident, didn't mention it. I already sort of took a jab at him on facebook chat with no response. I'm embarrassed that I lashed out about it. I took their getting back together a little too personally since I was already having a bad week. A bad week in general, but romantically bad more specifically.
Now I'm thinking about that. That slight. The end of that tryst. The formless, wordless void of an end. I hate being blown off. "The Fourth Kind" comes on TV, I turn the radio show back on.
The boy on the radio is talking again. With his girlfriend. She's in the studio with him. As always when I'm indulging in liking things about him, the idea of her makes me feel guilty. They seem like such a strong couple. A ribbon of jealousy rips through me. All at once I want more than anything to be in a strong couple with a neat guy. The next song he puts on is "This Year" by The Mountain Goats. One of my favorite songs. He dedicates it to anyone who had a hard week like he did. I had a hard week. I feel like it's for me a little, and I appreciate it even more.