"I'm looking through you...

you know who you are." ~ Spoon, Mathematical Mind

On my way to a first date tonight (which did not go all that well,) guess who I see mere blocks from my place on a bicycle?

Spoonman.

I blink a few times, thinking, "No way! He hurt his knee about 8 weeks ago."

Then I see it. The girl on a bike, wobbling around. She's got straight mousy brown hair, no smile, and nothing that I don't see every day congregating on the lawns of the sorrority houses.

They are very obviously together. My heart sunk.

I was dropped for a boring, run-of-the-mill type of girl. Me, the strawberry blonde with the curly hair that made him say, "oooh" the first time I let it down; the one that he said, "isn't like every other girl out there;" the one who wanted to ride bikes with him but he wouldn't give up his precious weekend time.

Why her? Why do they always go for the average? And why.the.fuck. ride bikes near my place? Are you trying to rub it in or something? He's lucky I'm not crazy because he nearly ran right into my truck as I was stopped there.

I think, "Good luck boring, average girl, you're in for it."

Meanwhile, my stripe-ed cats clobber the baby bears 9-3. I watched the end of the game via the television behind my date's head at the bar. I apologize as he tells me I'm worse than a guy with my baseball.

It's already clear: not going to work.