The idea of asking someone out crossed my mind briefly the other day. "Why not?" I thought. "I'm smart, charming, witty, blah blah blah." The very idea is foolhardy. These days I have problems making myself vulnerable to those closest to me. How could I possibly consider crawling out on the limb? I'm oft complaining about how I hate seeing certain people these days because who they are is a facade and that the friend that I know and/or love is buried beneath some stupid face. I don't just put up a facade for others, but I wear a dozen masks to make sure that I don't accidently catch sight of myself in the mirror. A date, if all works as is supposed, should lead to several dates, leading to Dating. Dating would mean sacrificing some level of intimacy to that person. Over time, I've learned that when you go fishing, you need to learn how to use the proper amount of bait. Too little and you won't attract anything but desperate, half-dead fish that are willing to sacrifice themselves for whatever little bit they can grab hold of. Too much and your quarry will tear off enough to nourish itself and take off without even touching the hook. Dip your line without anything at all and you'll often find yourself caught in the rocks. I don't know if I'm willing to exert the effort to offer anyone enough bait to hook them right now.
I sung to an audience the other night. It took six vanilla stolis and some badgering to get me to go through with it. People Are Strange. The last time I legitimately sang in front of another person was on the drive home from Cincy. Jamie was asleep in the back seat, Kat was driving, and I was lamely crooning along with Adam Duritz. Kat was polite enough not to tell me how horrid it was to endure. It's hard to believe that was less than a year ago. Things have changed so much since then. Anyway, the co-workers seemed to enjoy my drunken wailing. Thank goodness they're tone deaf.