So. Another weekend. Where to begin?

Friday night I worked at the restaurant, bussing tables again. I haven’t served in over two weeks now and yes, I am thankful. After work and the falling through of various plans, I ended up having a few drinks with my fellow server pals, and can admit that I actually had fun. There was also good news to be had that night as I realized that I wasn’t on the schedule on Saturday, and since I usually work every Friday and Saturday night, and I didn’t request off, this is something of a miracle. I decided to make my Saturday worthwhile.

Since I had come home so early Friday night/Saturday morning (never thought I’d see the day when coming home at 3:00 a.m. would qualify as “early”), I was awake early enough to revel in the warmth and sunshine. I went to breakfast with Jessica, her sister, and the baby at Gus’s, my favorite little $2 breakfast dive. Upon returning home with big plans involving cleaning and car washing and laundry doing, I proceeded to sleep the day away. I suppose I needed it.

Saturday night I had plans with some friends to go to a bar on the west side to hear a band that I’ve heard so often in the last few months that I’m starting to feel like a groupie. I was sort of cranky about the plans, but after a few more vodkas and a jager bomb or two, I got a little silly and dragged my friends to the W. in Lakewood.

While we were on our way to the W., my phone rang. I answered the phone, and to my chagrin, realized it was The Guy That Never Happened (long story really…I met him and went out with him about two weeks ago…haven’t heard from him since…had written him off immediately).

Anyway, if this Guy That Never Happened is to be believed, his father had a mild stroke and he went to Florida for the last ten days to be with him. He didn’t bring my number with him and couldn’t call (though apparently he wanted to), and had just gotten back into town and called me as soon as he walked in the door. If he is not to be believed, he is really good at concocting elaborate and irreverent excuses.

I sort of rolled my eyes through the whole I really want to get to know you better’s and the I had such a good time with you’s and get him off the phone since I was already walking into the W. He told me he’d call me tomorrow after displaying a little bit of pissyness at me for not leaving where I was immediately and spending time with him instead (what the…? you’re kidding, right?) and ended up not calling anyway, so there you go.

So back to the W. Robert Lockwood Jr. was playing and we managed to catch his last four or five songs. He sounded really great and there were a ton of people there…I was impressed. Even my friends liked the music, which surprised me.

My friends hung around for a while, and when they left I was mid-conversation with one of the owner's friends for a bit. We eventually moved up to the front, where I ended up talking to some people that I met the very first time that I went there with my friend John.

I ended up having a great conversation with one of them, a real sweetheart. And, well, he sort of fits the bill for the type of person I decided I wanted to date a few weeks ago. It’s actually sort of funny. He told me that he was a “computer geek,” reads science fiction and fantasy, played D&D in high school, and sees himself living on his sailboat in ten years. He loves being outside, shares my Montana fetish, and promised me he would watch Buffy if I promised to go sailing with him this summer. He asked me if he could call me, and I said yes, but I somehow (cause I’m an idiot) managed not to find the right moment to give him my number, though he was probably there with me until six am, so there you go. Now, unfortunately, I really HAVE to go back up there so that I can find him.

Which brings me to yet another tirade that many who know me have heard me harp about time after time. It’s the whole “nice guy” versus “bad boy” issue. Now, many of my guy friends have asked in the past, “Suzanne, why do you always date such assholes?” or they’ve predicted that, once I hit thirty, my desire for the “bad boy” will make way for the search for a nice, smart, stable, gentleman. You know what I have to say about that?

Bullshit.

Let me just say that I’m not out looking for some typical “bad boy” to burst into my life, treat me like crap, and break my heart. The more I think about it, the more I realize that for years, since high school even, I’ve always been interested in the “nice guy.” Why have I never dated one, you ask? Well, maybe it’s because the “nice guy” usually spends all of his time pining for some bitch who wants nothing to do with him, then sits and cries that nice guys finish last while there are plenty of other nice girls out there that would be with them if only they would quit whining about said bitch and take a look around.

Yeah, fine, I’m a little annoyed.

In the meantime, one of the assholes is usually calling you constantly (they can be a little pushy), saying all the right things (and even though you know he doesn't mean it you need to hear it and you hate yourself a little for that), and generally making himself available to you at all hours of the day and/or night.

But seriously, I think it’s a little sad that people who are looking for a real connection, who feel sad, perhaps, that they never married or had kids, spend months, even years of their lives longing for someone who will come right out and say that they aren’t interested, were never interested, will never be interested. How many lives do you really think you’re going to get, my friend? Don’t you feel that you deserve to find someone that will return your feelings?

It’s so frustrating, really. I’ve had many guy friends over the years and I’ve seen them, time and time again, make such terrible choices in love. It almost seems that, faced with a choice between happiness and misery, they make a conscious choice to be miserable. And yet, somehow, it always ends up being the girls that are accused of liking assholes.

It doesn’t make any sense.

Anyway, I left the bar at seven on Sunday morning, slept for a few hours, went to breakfast with Jess again, and went home to listen to music and straighten up a bit. I would also like to add that if you’ve never listened to The Refreshments, give “Fizzy Fuzzy Big & Buzzy a shot.” It’s been nine years and I still love that CD. Listen to it. Now. Go. Went to Jess’s house for an actual meal, watched the first half of the Super Bowl (couldn’t get anyone to let my watch the Puppy Bowl on their tv…I need cable, already), went home, went to bed.

That, in a nutshell, was my weekend.