You want to know a secret?
I have a "thing" with 5k Guy this Saturday. It's called a "thing" or a "gathering" or a "get together" because I don't know what it is. I guess if I don't know what it is, then it's in the non-date category. Henceforth it shall be named, "non-date thing".
I e-mailed 5k Guy. Since he had made a list on my Facebook profile of all the things on my 30 before 30 list that he could help me with, I asked him if I could take him up on one of those (#20, Learn to change a tire) and then take him out to lunch as a thank you. Fail-safe, right? I was proud of myself.
Except he responds that he can't accept lunch as a thank you, "Think along the lines of #6 (but not a stranger), but we can do lunch after."
Well WTF does that mean? Does it mean he wants to take me to lunch, or does it mean I'm dealing with a good samaritan cub scout here?
So the day is set and I wait another week to contact him, unsure if I even should because I did the asking, but he's the guy. And besides, so far this is a "non-date thing". I ask if he is still interested and if so what time and place. He writes he still wants to commence the non-date thing on Saturday, but he gives me an hour and a half time-slot because he also has plans in another city.
Did he just give me a buffer in case things go badly?
Whatever. I'm 29 and am too old and should be too mature to waste my time decoding guy language. Besides, this is a NON-DATE THING.
So let's discuss all the ways in which I screwed myself:
- I chose the activity. I chose to freaking change a tire. This seemed like a good idea right up until I spent a New York-minute thinking about dress. I can't wear anything cute or nice, hence elevating my non-date thing into a date-ish thing, because it's going to involve me with my knees on the pavement and touching car grease. It's not exactly a situation where I can bust out the Rock and Republic jeans (also fail-safe) and a cute top. If I were changing a tire, normally I would wear my 4-year-old Lucky jeans with the ripped knee and the hole in the ass. It's not exactly a hole, but it's worn so thin that it's just horizontal strings from one side to the other and it's about the size of my palm and it's sheer enough to clearly display the color of my undie's, if not a palm-sized picture of it. My only other option is my stone-washed Old Navy's and, oh my god, I don't even wear those out in public.
- And it's not like I can buy one of those iron-on patches for the ass hole because it's on the seat of the pants and not the pocket, so it would look like I was pooping a flower or peace sign or whatever those iron-on patches come as. I was thinking a long t-shirt that would hide the ass cheek, but let's face it, when you are squatting on the ground, your ass is going to hang out no matter how long your shirt is.
And that's the most I have ever written about a pair of pants.