February 22, 2002 – 4:43 P.M.

So I’m back down in L.A. now, waiting for my pals to show up. It’s kind of difficult writing something I know I won’t be pleased with (yes, I see the dangling participle, but sometimes correct grammar sounds incredibly awkward) in two days.

Well, the only way I’d be pleased with this entry is if (1) I see her this weekend and (2) she’s actually pleased to see me. Theoretically, the first bit is possible. In all likelihood, I could see the pal who introduced me to her a little over a month ago this weekend, and then convince him to get her to come out with us (unless he utters those terrible words “She’s seeing someone”). The second bit is tougher.

Why do I keep thinking about her? Mainly because she is as much as a music geek as I am, she wasn’t afraid to sing in public (though the alcohol may have a lot to do with that), and she was easy on the eyes. How many women who aren’t afraid of singing Shawn Colvin songs about therapy can you say that about? My pal kept saying, “You two should get a room.” Unfortunately, I was way too subtle about exchanging contact information and I didn’t get her phone number. I e-mailed her at work, but that’s not the same. The e-mails remain unreplied. The fact I currently live over 350 miles away from her probably doesn’t help either.

OK, I know most guys are just able to move on. To paraphrase Beetle from Vurt, “Life is short, and my bed is warm and wide.” Unfortunately, my self-esteem is a bit shot (proving The Three Visit Barrier may have been a bad thing for me), and blue-eyed blondes tend not to go after my type (I ain’t a round eye). So I don’t exactly have a line of cute woman queuing up at my door.

And even if I did, I doubt any of them could discuss Liz Phair albums, and debate whether Lenny Kravitz is a no talent regurgitate 70s funk hack who couldn’t write an original song to save his life (she didn’t think so, I kept my opinion to myself in one of my few moments of intelligence).

If I did manage to see her, my left eye has suddenly gone disgustingly wonky. Everything to the left of the iris is red, the type of red you’d see when you mix Tabasco with egg yolk, with the same consistency as well. I don’t think it’s pink eye since I don’t have a runny discharge. Anyway, it’s not improving my self-esteem any. Sheesh.

So now I’m waiting for my law school pals to show up, and by the time I get to post this, I’ll either be disappointed (95% probability with a myriad of possible reasons why – most feared – “Oh, she’s doing fine. She’s seeing someone now”), still uncertain (4%), or ecstatic (1% - she’s coyly asking from the shower when I’ll be ready). Sigh.

Songs You Should Avoid When Yearning After Someone:
Shiver – Coldplay
Destiny – Zero 7
How Soon Is Now? – The Smiths
Teardrop – Massive Attack
Oh L’Amour – Erasure