As regular readers know, I’ve been hanging around Tattoo Guy. To say he and I are dating would mean admitting that I’m capable of such a thing, and frankly, I’m just not ready for that. So, we’re “hanging around” each other.
Tattoo Guy is great. He’s a history buff, charismatic in this vulgar, rough around the edges sort of way, and so good in bed that just the thought of sex with him makes my body tremble. He’s also someone that, at the time being, I didn’t want to introduce to any other part of my life.
Enter: Jennifer Wright. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?
Aside from being colleagues, Jennifer and I are friends outside of the office. To be honest, my love and respect for Wright runs pretty deep, and sometimes I actually wonder how I lived my life before her. Jennifer is also a meddler!
Jennifer is in my handful of friends to whom I tell everything. She’s also one of the few people I know in the world who doesn’t judge her friends. I can tell the gal pretty much anything and she will not judge me. I could even make stuff up, some over the top obscure and insane things, and she will look me in the eye and tell me she’s not judging and mean it, unlike the rest of us. So in the interest of friendship and my happiness, Wright decided that she wanted to meet Tattoo Guy, while I decided I would make sure that never happened. But Jennifer is a meddler! She has these sticky little hands that pry into a situation in which she molds things into what she wants! Jennifer, despite all her darling and loving ways, is evil! Yes, Jennifer, you are!
On Saturday, I had some choice comments for Tattoo Guy that we will not cover, but briefly sum up as me being not too keen to the fact that he will never be Mad Men‘s Roger Sterling. Completely rational, yes? On Saturday night, Jennifer swooped in to not only save me from myself, but save me from the tear fest I was having over that and some Swede-related issues. We went to dinner to discuss said issues, I cried, she consoled me (I’d also like to point out she had eggs with her for her new cooking thing), and when we left I agreed to allow her to walk past Tattoo Guy’s tattoo shop. But again, Jennifer is a meddler!
Instead of walking by, as we had originally said she’d do, she waltzed on in there, asked for Tattoo Guy, then told him she was his friend. Why? Because that’s what Jennifer does! When she exited the shop, she had Tattoo Guy in tow, and he was perplexed why I hadn’t stopped in to say “hello,” as well. Um, Tattoo Guy, we’re not dating, so why should I?
Tragically, I had told him a few days before that my friend and, in that moment, arch nemesis, Jennifer wanted to meet him. Of all my friends, she was the most adamant about it and he, for some reason, thought this was great! So while I’m standing there on the sidewalk between the two of them, they decide we’re going to lunch on Monday at McSorley’s and it’s going to be great! While they’re becoming best friends, I’m thinking of how I can either fake sick on Monday or, ideally, murder the two of them and somehow get away with it.
Monday comes, I don’t have the balls to fake sick and since I haven’t killed them, I’m obligated to go to lunch. Where… THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. When Tattoo Guy goes to the loo, Jennifer gushes about how great he is to me, how wonderful and smart and sweet and this and that… how we’re so perfect for each other and she’s planning our wedding! When Tattoo Guy and I part ways with Wright, he proceeds to go on and on about how Jennifer is so funny and great and sweet and smart and wonderful and how he hopes all my friends are JUST LIKE HER. Well, they’re not, because Jennifer is a meddler!
What it comes down to is I had a break through: I actually allowed someone from my life to meet Tattoo Guy, and it was great! (Their words, not mine.) I took a risk and almost admitted that maybe I’m interested in more than just “hanging around” Tattoo Guy. I let two completely opposite people from polar ends of my world collide and it was practically a match made in heaven. For the first time in a long time, a friend actually approves (not that I need anyone’s approval) of my choice in a fella, and it’s great!
Although, in all seriousness, it is pretty great. I feel like I’ve evolved, and apparently that’s what you’re supposed to do when maturity hits: evolve. Evolving is great!