A Torrential Downpour

Oh...hell.

I saw Chrissie today. We'd made vague plans to meet up this morning, then I didn't get to sleep until after nine (am) and decided to make it 2 or 3 this afternoon instead.

Of course, neither of our buses made it on time, and we didn't get into town until fourish. Couple that with Chrissie needing to open a bank account (she had to get an appointment for tomorrow) and apply for a bus pass (they gave her a form and sent her away) and spending way too long looking at things in New Look that she had no intention of buying, I didn't get to either of the places that I needed to go (Accessorize to look for a handbag for my mom's birthday, and Jane Norman to look for handbags and a dress to wear out with Curt when he takes me to dinner this weekend). I am somewhat irritated that after paying off my overdraft after Christmas, and being extremely proud of myself for doing so, I'm already back in the red again. Damn bills / shopping trips / dinners out. I have GOT to learn to budget better. Maybe take a class on economics in the spring.

Anyway, that wasn't the cause for the oh hell. That was due to Christie deciding to matchmake. Last week she texted me (in the middle of the night, natch) to say she'd thought of the perfect guy for me. Today she talked to the guy online, and gave him my FB details, and asked him what he thought of me.

Turns out, he thought I was pretty OK.

Now, I'm not bothered that she'd give out my FB details. I keep the whole profile public, and anyone from this site who I communicate with or who reads my blog is welcome to add me on there. The same goes for people who know my friends. We may get on, we may not, but even if we don't it doesn't bother me if you check me out - I live a public life and I'm happy that way. To me, being on FB is much like walking down the street in a low-cut dress - I know people are going to look, and whether those people are ones that I'm interested in or not, they're perfectly welcome to look to their hearts content, as long as they respect my personal space. I would never feel offended or put-upon by someone gazing at my breasts, and the same goes for anything I choose to put up on my profile.

I am slightly bothered by the fact that she told him I thought he was hot, when I hadn't even checked him out yet, but as lies go it's not a whopper. If I'd checked him out, I probably would have thought that. I did look at him this evening, and he's pretty good-looking. I'm told he's a nice guy, and that he's really great in bed, and has a high sex drive. He's not intellectual, but I know better than to expect that from one of Christie's guy friends.

I don't have any right to be bothered by the matchmaking, either, since a couple weeks ago I asked her if she knew anyone who might be right for me. I was half joking, and didn't think she'd know anyone - while we're both versatile enough that I enjoy the odd evening with her friends, and she with mine, our tastes in people are vastly different - but I'm the one who brought it up.

So why do I feel so...blah?

A couple weeks ago I would have been happy to find a guy who was safe, handsome and good in bed. This week I have zero interest. And it's not personal, either. I'm not uninterested in him - by which I mean, my lack of interest isn't anything to do with his looks or his personality, or really with him at all. It's just...well, it's that old cliche, I guess. It's not him, it's me.
Lulu sometimes writes about how sex seems to come in droughts and torrents for her; she'll have a dry spell where she's either not interested or dates get cancelled for a number of reasons, and then she has spells where it seems like every man she knows wants to hook up. I am much the same, except that unlike my dear friend, I am not built to cope with the torrents of potentials, at least not in the form that they come in. I become preoccupied with one - one person, one situation, one crisis, one anything that acts as an emotional trigger - and I lose interest in the others that come after it. And they always come, because that's the way my life seems to work. Periods where I'm footloose and fancy free, and can't get a date to save my life, and then periods where I have floods of people wanting equal time and attention, and I'm incapable of giving it to them - or at least of WANTING to give it to them, although sometimes I can drag myself away from my preoccupation long enough to give them what they deserve - because all my interest is used up on that one thing, or occasionally two or three things.

To put it bluntly, there is a very small handful of people I would welcome in my bed right now, and a stranger - even a hot, talented stranger - is not one of them.

Damn timing.

Part of me wants to force it, because I hate letting a chance go by. I know in a couple of weeks I'll be back to normal, and will wonder why I ignored such a tempting proposition. Yet I don't think it's fair to either of us to attempt to make a connection when my mind and spirit are quite simply not available.

Do you think if I wrote him a short note saying that I think he's interesting, and that I'm going through some personal things right now but would like to get in touch with him in a month or two, that that would be rude? Would you be insulted by that? Or would you think it was practical?

*sigh*

Poor timing is my worst enemy so often. Timing makes the difference between catching the wave and getting sucked under.