Friday, August 06, 2004

 

Am I Actually Crazy?

I wrote approximately a paragraph yesterday afternoon, and then I took a little nap. I did not think about my syllabus. Then, it was about 5 pm, and I was contemplating calling Freud. At this point, I decided I didn't want to call him, and so I proceeded to take a shower, to blow my hair dry for the first time since May, to try on a bunch of different outfits, and to put on a full face of glamorous makeup as if I had plans to go out with Freud on some sort of prearranged date. Problematically, this date could only have been scheduled in my head, as I had not spoken to him since Sunday.

At this point, I then went out for a bottle of wine, thinking that I would have just one glass before calling Freud. Around 8:15, and on my third glass of wine, I called Freud, who was out for drinks with some people.

Freud: Hello?
Dr. C: Hi.
Freud: Uh... hello...
Dr. C: Hi, Freud.
Freud: Oh, hi! Hey, what's up?
Dr. C: Oh, I just got back from dinner with some colleagues [total lie told as to appear like I'm not a loser] and I was wondering what you were up to, but it sounds like you're busy.
Freud: Oh, I was just having some cocktails with some people but we're about to get out of here.
Dr. C: Oh, where are you off to next? I had meetings all morning and I wrote all afternoon [tiny white lie told as to sound like I'm really a serious scholar] and I don't feel like staying in my house with my dining room table of anxiety, so I thought I'd give you a call.
Freud: I think I'm probably just going to go home.... why don't I call you when I'm done here?
Dr. C: Okay.

At this point, I figured that he would not call me back, and thus continued drinking the wine. About 45 minutes later, however, he did call back. I was, pathetically, a hammered mess sitting on my balcony and smoking cigarettes, as I had been talking on the phone with friends since I called him the first time, thus making my wine consumption social. I will give you a recap of this second conversation, though, as I noted, I was hammered, and so there are gaps.

Dr. C: Hey, what are you up to?
Freud: Oh, I'm really exhausted. I'm just going to go home and chill. I've been reading all of these articles for my MQE's [major qualifying exams, I later surmised... we didn't call them that at my graduate school, and thus, I was confused for about 5 minutes while he rambled on]... Also I've had insomnia lately, so I just really want to sleep.
Dr. C: What particular form does this insomnia take? [I say, as if I'm some sort of insomnia expert, which I'm not, but I siezed onto this point in his monologue because insomnia is one thing that I hate in a boy - the ex-boyfriend was a horrible insomniac, and it sucks being with an insomniac. In addition, I he was a picky eater, and those two things combined - ugh.]
Freud: Oh, I've just been waking up like every hour and not getting good sleep lately.
Dr. C: You don't have insomnia. You're just stressed out. [Again, as if I'm some sort of expert, which I am not.] Well, I'll just let you go then. It sounds like you're beat.
Freud: Yeah, but we still have to have coffee.
Dr. C: Ok, when?
Freud: Well, I don't really like to make plans.... I'm a sort of "play it by ear" kind of guy....
Dr. C: Yeah, when? Because this sounds like you're just waiting around to see if anything better is going on before you decide to hang out with me. [Remember, I am drunk as I say this, but I'm not sure that's any kind of excuse.]
Freud: That's not it at all! Why don't I call you tomorrow and we'll schedule something?
Dr. C: Oh, I don't really believe in scheduling things. What you don't realize is that being a college professor generally requires one to schedule things as one's job, and so I don't make plans in my personal life.
Freud: Uh... ok.... well, I'll call you tomorrow and we'll make plans...
Dr. C: No, I'd rather be more spontaneous than that. We'll just see what happens. I'll talk to you later.
Freud: Ok, bye....
Dr. C: Bye!

I then proceeded to drink more wine, and I crashed at approximately 11:30. Looking back on my conversations with him, I think I might, truly, have lost it. Ah well, we'll see if he ever calls again. If he can handle this kind of nutso behavior, he may be more interesting than I thought. [By the way, I do think I was quite hilarious, if entirely inappropriate given the fact that he is not actually a close friend and thus wouldn't get that I thought I was being funny.]

Comments:
Oh boy. Reading this was both funny and eery to me. And a little bit ... I can't even think of the word for it. I had a number of those calls last year -- to the ex, when we were living apart and falling apart and I would start drinking and then couldn't stop and I would call and want his attention but want to play it cool and and and ... (that had to be all in one breath because that's how the feeling goes).

It does all sound rather hilarious, though. How does your head feel this morning? And white or red whine? (OK, a typo there -- or a Freudian slip reflecting my own experiences here? ... I figured I should leave it in)
 
Yes, it's totally an all-in-one-breath sort of experience, that sort of conversation. The thing of it is, I don't think I'd be as weirded out by it if I knew him better. Nevertheless, my interactions with him have been characterized from the beginning (I met him in May and have hung out with him a number of times totally as friends) with a kind of "I'll say anything because I don't really care if you like me or not" attitude. What makes this weird now is that the boy-girl stuff means I'm supposed to care, but I can't stop from saying completely ridiculous things to this boy because I really am entertained by it. Ah well. If he wasn't horrified to hear from me after the whole "I really was planning on falling in love with you" thing then he should be able to handle my idiocy of last night.

Love the "whine" typo - I would have left it, too. Head this morning was not too bad - I think because I ate soup before bed (the act of a drunk person, but also hydrating) and because I woke up and drank about a gallon of cranberry juice.
 
Are we really supposed to care what we say, re: the boy-girl stuff? I'm starting to think that the answer is no. Not now, not at our age. The dating version of profgrrrrl went to sleep around 1992 or 3 (when she was neuroticorporategrrrrl, but that's another story) and just woke up last year to find that dating at 30-something (33, to be precise) is entirely different from dating at 20. I feel like these days I can peg the potential longevity of a relationship pretty darn quickly, and I have no problems with deciding to amuse myself with a relationship for as long as it lasts -- and that includes saying things and acting in ways that the 20-year-old me would have thought most not-OK for dating, but the 33-me says "eh, why not? because if I'm not in some way, shape or form enjoying myself then what the hell am I doing here?"

So cranberry juice helps? I simply cannot drink any more. 1 glass of wine with dinner is OK. Any more and I do not sleep well. Or at least I think it is what causes the sleep disturbance. Who knows.

Anyway, go forth and have fun!
 
Hmmmm - can't tolerate insomniacs and picky eaters. Me too. Maybe that's why I want to toss PowerHubby (PH).

I've been there with the vino. I find email a bit more dangerous for me, unless I'm really really hammered and away from PH -- then I start calling the ex. Boy do I want to crawl into a hole after one of those.
 
Firmly convinced that not caring what you say is the route to being devastatingly irresistable....
 
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