mercredi 21 septembre 2005

Risotto and ruminations.

Risotto just doesn't photograph well. Especially when you add mushrooms. It looks ugly, or almost like someone puked up a not-very-well digested meal. But trust me, it was good. And I made enough for an army. But it's just me. Living by myself (thank GOD). That's okay, it's a good thing I like risotto.

I have been very busy of late being trained to become a trainer of data collectors, which is actually not as boring as it sounds, for I get to do things like code classroom behaviours. I am apparently very good at it, and I know why. I have years of finely honed experience of people-watching, which leads sometimes to people-categorizing and people-criticizing. Now I am getting paid to do such a thing, and I won't be thought "mean" for marking down what I'm thinking. It is awesome.

Anyway, running into one ex while being with another perhaps-not-so-ex, prompted a quite lovely path down memory lane, what with all the lovely lovely screwed up relationships I've had. Because I choose not to make life easy. Why, what would I obsess over then?


So lah-de-dah. In looking at past relationships - or perhaps more accurately, guys with whom I've been involved - they all fall into nice categories, which makes thinking about them very easy. There's the slew of Jewish guys. The athletes, and then within that the baseball players. The 6'4 guys (yes, I went out with enough guys of that height so that they get their own category). The law students. The ones with blue eyes (actually, I think that's all of them save the one with green eyes and the fucker who wore blue contacts). It's not that I go out with the intention of finding someone who'll fit nicely into one of my categories, but rather, it just seems to happen to me. I look back on my dating history and go, oh lookie! Look at how nicely they clump together!

Even in my subconscious, it appears that I like order and neatness.

Then there are a whole bunch of guys who don't fit into any of the above categories, and who really never got beyond a second date - if even that. They have their own categories, the "too much, too soons" or the "smotherers", depending on my mood. Everyone knows who I'm talking about - the (in my case) guys who seem to jump the gun like a gazillion minutes before it goes off, already talking about marriage and kids and a lovely everlasting life together barely after your first date has ended. It's endearing, perhaps, but honestly scary. It leaves you wondering 1) whether they do that with all the girls they know and 2) why the hell are they so desperate and clingy already? Sure, I'm superfabulous, but still. Reality has its place here. And thus, it's this category into which such guys fall as the Belgian grad student who sent me Rodin postcards and said he would TA any French class I was in (ew, thanks, but no, and I ended up taking higher level courses just so he would never be my TA); the comedy writer who somehow just didn't get the hint that I was like, so not interested in him and hadn't been for the previous 4 years (ran into him the other day, that was just slightly awkward); the couple (yes, I met two in the span of a week) of divorced 33-year-olds who just couldn't follow instructions and called me even though I told them I was going to be IN A WEDDING and wouldn't be able to talk to them until Monday (saw one of them too recently by accident - seriously, LA is too damn small, and too bad, because he was nice and hey! Emmy-nominated! but ergh, looking to be in a relationship way too desperately to suit me); the student majoring in hospitality at a college near mine who was sweet but gag, gag, too sweet; this cute cute guy who was one of my TAs but unfortunately just a little too pushy and also relationship-needy.

Anyway, I don't know how I got off on this tangent. I could go on forever, but I won't, because then I start to feel vaguely guilty for never calling any of the guys in the latter category back (well, except for the grad student; unfortunately we were in the same French class and that made avoiding him really tricky). But then again, who wants a clingy limpet? Certainly not I. No thank you.

I will have more risotto though. There's certainly more than enough of that.