I am infatuated by the second woman I am dating.
[I have been collecting highbrow words from Mirium-Webster's word of the day. I'm going to try using some of them in my diary entries henceforth.]
I am sedulous [(1) involving with or accomplished with careful perseverance. (2) Diligent in application or pursuit.] with the second woman.
(I should point out that I do not use the names of actual persons in my diary in case it ever gets located--it's private after all. The "second woman" refers to the second woman I met through the dating service. I am going to call her "Joyce" from now on to make it easier to type and less confusing to read.)
I try very hard to be charming and attractive to her. But I have decided on recitude [(1) The quality of being straight (2) moral integrity : righteousness (3) the quality or state of being correct in judgement or procedure] with her, or for that matter, with anyone I meet through the service. For one thing, I sense that she is very intelligent. Joyce is a successful attorney with an office downtown in one of the Embarcadero high rise buildings. Any attempt to bullshit her would almost certainly backfire. I avoid any smashmouth [characterized by brute force without finesse] behavior, too.
But I don't want to be dishonest. On the other hand, I don't display my baggage in my dating profile. I don't see the need to do that. If I meet someone with a similar approach to dating as me I can slowly divulge my baggage to her over the course of our budding relationship. I guess my profile commits the lie of omission but I have decided to foul thus rather than risk complete public exposure of my baggage.
Back to Joyce. I continue to be intrigued by her. She is an amalgam of shrewdness and vulnerability. She deftly avoided the exposure of her age when we were in the coffee shop in Half Moon Bay. I spoke wistfully about my youth. I said that at least one advantage of being 57 was the wisdom I had acquired in my life. She demurred about joining this conversation. She doesn't want to reveal her age and I did not press her on it.
The one thing she never talks about is her work. I guess that's natural. She doesn't want to think about work when she is recreational, that is, on a date with me. I'm curious about it but avoid the topic for her sake. She is in D.C. for two weeks as I write this.
It has to do with her job. I stay in touch with her via email. I wonder how she views these exchanges. Joyce made a point to me before she left that she would be reading her email while gone. I think this was meant to encourage me to write her notes. So I do that. Attorneys make prodigious use of email to communicate. I guess picking out mine must be a welcome break in her routine. I try to not be mawkish [(1) having a weak often unpleasant taste (2) marked by sickly sentimentality : sad or romantic in a foolish or exaggerated way.] in my notes.
I made the mistake of calling her a "closet Republican" immediately after the election. She shot back a note telling me that she was NOT a Republican and viewed the current Democratic agenda in an independent way. I sent a brief reply in which I apologized. I said something else in that note but I forget what it was.
Joyce is so utterly different that the first woman I met and that I still see. I sent the first a message saying that I did not think we were compatible. I guess she thought it referred to a romantic relationship (which, in part, it did). She responded that she just considered us to be friends. It caught me off guard. I really don't want to see her as a friend, even. But I guess there's no harm in that. I will continue to date with her on those terms. But she is so dull and boring compared to Joyce.
I miss Joyce. I miss her directness. I miss the twinkle in her eye when I talk about myself. I miss listening to her. I cannot remember the substance of these exchanges. I only remember the feelings. And those make me warm and fuzzy inside.
I guess I am infatuated by her.
[I have been collecting highbrow words from Mirium-Webster's word of the day. I'm going to try using some of them in my diary entries henceforth.]
I am sedulous [(1) involving with or accomplished with careful perseverance. (2) Diligent in application or pursuit.] with the second woman.
(I should point out that I do not use the names of actual persons in my diary in case it ever gets located--it's private after all. The "second woman" refers to the second woman I met through the dating service. I am going to call her "Joyce" from now on to make it easier to type and less confusing to read.)
I try very hard to be charming and attractive to her. But I have decided on recitude [(1) The quality of being straight (2) moral integrity : righteousness (3) the quality or state of being correct in judgement or procedure] with her, or for that matter, with anyone I meet through the service. For one thing, I sense that she is very intelligent. Joyce is a successful attorney with an office downtown in one of the Embarcadero high rise buildings. Any attempt to bullshit her would almost certainly backfire. I avoid any smashmouth [characterized by brute force without finesse] behavior, too.
But I don't want to be dishonest. On the other hand, I don't display my baggage in my dating profile. I don't see the need to do that. If I meet someone with a similar approach to dating as me I can slowly divulge my baggage to her over the course of our budding relationship. I guess my profile commits the lie of omission but I have decided to foul thus rather than risk complete public exposure of my baggage.
Back to Joyce. I continue to be intrigued by her. She is an amalgam of shrewdness and vulnerability. She deftly avoided the exposure of her age when we were in the coffee shop in Half Moon Bay. I spoke wistfully about my youth. I said that at least one advantage of being 57 was the wisdom I had acquired in my life. She demurred about joining this conversation. She doesn't want to reveal her age and I did not press her on it.
The one thing she never talks about is her work. I guess that's natural. She doesn't want to think about work when she is recreational, that is, on a date with me. I'm curious about it but avoid the topic for her sake. She is in D.C. for two weeks as I write this.
It has to do with her job. I stay in touch with her via email. I wonder how she views these exchanges. Joyce made a point to me before she left that she would be reading her email while gone. I think this was meant to encourage me to write her notes. So I do that. Attorneys make prodigious use of email to communicate. I guess picking out mine must be a welcome break in her routine. I try to not be mawkish [(1) having a weak often unpleasant taste (2) marked by sickly sentimentality : sad or romantic in a foolish or exaggerated way.] in my notes.
I made the mistake of calling her a "closet Republican" immediately after the election. She shot back a note telling me that she was NOT a Republican and viewed the current Democratic agenda in an independent way. I sent a brief reply in which I apologized. I said something else in that note but I forget what it was.
Joyce is so utterly different that the first woman I met and that I still see. I sent the first a message saying that I did not think we were compatible. I guess she thought it referred to a romantic relationship (which, in part, it did). She responded that she just considered us to be friends. It caught me off guard. I really don't want to see her as a friend, even. But I guess there's no harm in that. I will continue to date with her on those terms. But she is so dull and boring compared to Joyce.
I miss Joyce. I miss her directness. I miss the twinkle in her eye when I talk about myself. I miss listening to her. I cannot remember the substance of these exchanges. I only remember the feelings. And those make me warm and fuzzy inside.
I guess I am infatuated by her.
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