The Grass-stained amorist

So it may come to a surprise to many of my readers that I have, in fact, starting dating an attractive young woman. Go ahead and gasp. I promise not to be hurt. I totes can't hear your gasp anyway, if you hadn't noticed. While most of my crushes yield the same results (*ahem* FAILURE) through action or inaction, this one- somewhat ironically- paid off despite my denial/avoidance of the whole thing. I do not recommend this strategy for anyone else. Actually, I recommend the opposite. Leaving the initiative up to another, whom you are not sure feels like taking it into his/her own hands or even if they feel remotely the same way as you do is like betting that the cake that you just dropped off of the top of a parking garage will not land on one very unlucky pedestrian. I was extremely fortunate that someone was frank enough with me to take the reigns. I was a bit too slow in this department. I know what all of you are thinking. "Oh my god, but Craig totally seems, like, ambitious and exudes, like, a super-intellectual aura." I know, I know. You might very well be shocked to learn that behind my brilliance-laden facade lurks an unerringly stupid creature. I was especially putty around this young lady. I was seriously very much like putty around her, though not the kind any desirable person would be interested in molding or even the "silly" kind of putty that can be used to press against the page of a newspaper to attain a reverse image of the latest "Get Fuzzy" or "Marmaduke". More like the kind of putty that a child would leave on the living room floor collecting dust bunnies and dog hair. I won't try and fool you. I shan't pretend to be one of the finer putties. I know my place in the putty world. I know what putty category I fit into. I'm not trying to be negative. I just know most women don't glance twice at me and it has a little something to do with the combination of my fashion sense, awkward body shape, awkward mannerisms, repellent looks, degenerating book-smarts, deteriorating common sense, lack of career or goals whatsoever, abrasive and/or untimely sense of humor and an all-around dreaded personality. I suppose I could have said "a combination of all of my traits", but I like to type. This young person seems to see through all or most of these faults, though, or maybe even enjoy them. God help her, if this is the case. Where I live, I mean, is usually enough to send any creature with complex thought processes (let alone attractive human beings) to turn and bound for the nearest exit. Who honestly isn't stoked on the ability to make a mess of a living space despite a complete lack of furniture, and walls painted so sloppily that they could double as a Tristeza record cover.
I have to admit, this all makes me want to buy her a car, build her a house, or take her out for an expensive dinner, none of which I am capable of. Shucks, another person close to me let down once again.
And though this situation is not yet ripe, I'm learning hard lessons left and right. I have to admit, however, I'm not sure where the "men are from Mars, women are from Venus" thing came from. Venus has a much more hostile, dangerous atmosphere and I find her atmosphere rather accommodating, like Mars. I'm much more like Venus myself, given the fact that only one probe has ever successfully penetrated the atmosphere and snapped pictures of its surface. This was not meant to imply anything physical, just an ornery planetary joke. Also, like Venus, I draw the least amount of attention of the terrestrial planets these days. Self-deprecating, inner-solar-system-referencing aside, I was speaking of lessons learned. As our present situation took shape, very quickly and awkwardly (like a romantic comedy written by a 12-year-old), my overall happiness improved, while a lot of other parts of my life slowed or came to a complete stop. Having this lady-friend interested in yours truly as well as living in a house with some fucking wild-ass friends has forced my social life into full-bloom and simultaneously shattered any other ambitions I previously had. I'm definitely not complaining, but I would still be willing to bet that shortly after the advent of the physical relationship, a number of as-yet-unknown afflictions to mankind suddenly presented themselves. A few of these being: writer's block, missed classes, unemployment, runny noses, tunnel vision, radiation sickness, food poisoning, ingrown toenails, burst blood vessels, genocide, global warming, jam bands, Danielle Steel novels, and the full-length feature film "Remember the Titans". Just kidding. I actually believe that if someone were in a physical relationship at a special point in time, we might have been able to dodge the bullet that is "Remember the Titans". I mean, what a piece of garbage. Who was digging through the trash pile behind some high-school-aged aspiring screenplay writer's house when they found that fucking gem? Really? Come on. I could piss a more interesting movie idea into the snow than what they came up with. In July. And execute it better. I could get really immature and call whatever studio "exec" that gave the go-ahead to that movie a "fart knocker" or a "penis wrinkle" but it would just get ugly and I don't want you to have to see that. Or read it. I... uh, whatever.
N E Wayz, things are going pretty good in this new city. I've some silly stories to tell already and I promise to get around to them. The two next posts should be (in no particular order) a Stormgren Craigslist Singles Ad and a chronicle of my job-hunting interview failures, tying in problems with unwelcome erections. I hope this post finds you all well and in good spirits, as I feel like a million cash-dollars myself.

Hopefully not failing for long,
Craig