January 22–February 18, 2005 — Hash before television

In between the last time I met up with R         and sending her that email, I started to think maybe the reason I wasn’t acting normally around her was because I hadn’t touched anyone in almost a year. So I decided to find someone I could make out with as quickly as possible. I declared failure about a month later, but somewhere in the middle of that I spent Valentine’s Day watching movies with two nineteen-year-old girls whose last names I never learned and who never learned mine. I met one of them on the internet; the other was apparently her best friend, but I never bothered to ask how they knew each other. The first had sent me a message eight days earlier, and I decided to see how quickly I could arrange to be in the same room as her. These are the games I make for myself with boredom and loneliness as alternatives.

I’m not sure why I feel obligated to change their names, but let’s call them Lindsay and Erin; let’s make Lindsay the one who contacted me and Erin her friend.

So Lindsay agreed to meet up with me. She suggested that Monday would be the best day for her, and it didn’t occur to me until days later that Monday and Valentine’s Day were the same. I hadn’t suggested anything for us to do, so she proposed watching a DVD together. I told Mimi about my plans, and she said spending Valentine’s Day in a dark room alone with a girl while watching movies would inevitably lead to touching. I was skeptical.

The night before Valentine’s Day, Lindsay sent me a message saying she’d made plans to spend the day with a friend, so why didn’t we just watch the movie at her friend’s house? I laughed and sent her a message agreeing that that would be fine. I resented it a bit, too.

It just seemed such a roundabout way of making plans: For her first to suggest we do something alone and then to involve one of her friends as if I’d been the one to make the first suggestion, forcing her to bring a friend along for safety. I thought it would have been more sensible to make plans that kept us out in public where she would have been safe regardless of whether I turned out to be a creep.

But mostly it was a witness. Not in the way Lindsay meant, not one that would prevent any of the wrongdoings she likely worried about; just to the sad reality of me spending Valentine’s Day with a teenage girl I knew nothing about.

I walked to Erin’s house. She answered the door while Lindsay hid around the corner on the couch. As much as I resented Erin in theory, she was much worse in person. Something about the story girls tell of being scouted by modeling agencies always ends with me trying to conceal cringes.

The rest of the night was awkward and tedious. They talked about friends I didn’t know, and I feigned a boring sort of eccentricity. I told them I owned four copies of Esthero’s first album (which I don’t, but wouldn’t it be funny if I did?), and I bragged of knowing the person who did bus security at the most recent Bright Eyes concert. The second part came up during one of many conversations revolving around famous people Erin knew, each of which I countered with mostly made-up stories about security personnel and bar staff I claimed as my friends; lies I knew wouldn’t impress them, but that I found funny to tell.

There was also the moment when they debated smoking hash before settling down to watch television after the movie. I hadn’t bothered telling them that I don’t so much as drink; I find it easier not to unless it comes up. They decided hash wasn’t a good idea, so they never learned I’m even more boring than they suspected.

While the movie had at least been bearable, television wasn’t. I learned about spin-off franchises of home improvement reality shows, and we watched something about plastic surgery.

When I left, Erin rushed to close the door behind me. I wanted to laugh — I’d wanted to for a while — but I held it for long enough that she didn’t hear.

So that was Monday. I made plans with different people for the next four nights, and I was cancelled on four nights in a row. Lindsay was the only person not to stand me up that week.

I sent her a message on Tuesday or Wednesday because I felt it was the polite thing to do. She didn’t respond, and that was alright.