Sloshed through rain of biblical proportions to Berkeley for a modeling job this morning. New clients, people I haven't worked for before; we made the arrangement privately and not through the Guild.
Which it seems was not such a hot idea now. Because I found myself standing at the corner of Adeline and Stuart (I was never given a house number; was told instead to call from the intersection and someone would meet me because it was "too complicated" to explain where the house was), completely drenched where my umbrella did not cover me, dialing repeatedly and getting a machine. Finally I left a message that as much as I wanted to meet and work for them, I was going to wait ten more minutes in a nearby Walgreen's and then I was going home.
They never called. I speculated on whether I could get away with demanding partial payment, hoped that nothing catastrophic had happened, and bought some nail polish remover and a travel size tube of lotion. Can someone explain to me why we need disposable women's razors with lavender-scented handles? Anyone? Anyone? Ferris? Also, Mars has a Star Wars tie-in where you can choose which side of the Force to join--milk chocolate M&M's, or dark chocolate ones.
Which clarifies something about me I had always suspected. Clearly my deep disdain for milk chocolate is evidence that I really want my head mutilated and then covered with a shiny black wastebasket.
But I digress.
I'd made a plan to meet Vicces after 1 to spend a little time learning survival Hungarian, so I called him and he agreed to meet me at Sconehenge a couple hours early. Which has so far turned out to be the most productive part of the day; I now know the three most important things in any language: please, excuse me, and where is the bathroom? We did not get to my mother only drinks Diet Pepsi or please do not make that with onions, but I'll be carrying a phrasebook. This was mostly to get a sense of the sounds, and so that I could watch Vicces' mouth as he made them, which always seems to help.
Fell asleep on BART coming back. Somebody--I'm not naming any names--needs to not stay up all night reading and compulsively watching DVDs in an effort to maximize her Netflix dollars. Ahem.
And I just got home to find that one of the gentlemen I've been seeing here has dumped me, via email. After just three or four dates, but several years of light flirtation at work. Apparently I have become two things women bemoan in men--emotionally unavailable and fixated on my work. He said it all very nicely, of course, but that was the upshot. He knew pretty much after the first, ah, time that he wanted to build something with me (yeah, right, I'm that good. Ha!), and I did not catch up in time.
I'm not feeling anything about this yet besides bemused. And, admittedly, a little relieved--this was warmer than it was hot. And terrible that he's sad, and annoyed that he tries to guilt me in a few points in his email. Okay, so maybe I'm feeling more than just bemused. But it's so strange; I am rarely if ever the one in this position. Usually I fall first. And usually I give new things a little more of a chance, if they're not exactly what I want right away.
He may be making the right call. But I was enjoying his company--and his cooking. Ah well. I am getting valuable insight. I read his email and it sounds like my own words; we may be more similar than is totally wise in a partnership anyway.
Still, I think a nap is in order. I'm had as much new information today as I can handle.
0 comments:
Post a Comment