The Flower of My Secret came over again on sunday evening, bringing a proper picnic basket full of things for me to like. e.g. oyster mushrooms. i was explicit about liking oyster mushrooms, in some text—(such a crucial point in every potential/tentatively-blossoming relationship, the Mushroom Talk*)—so he went out of his way to find and prepare some for me. aïe. such a sweet man.
he is. a sweet man, i mean. though whenever i tell a man he’s sweet, he freaks out and says ‘what do you mean’ or ‘if you say so’—and i say ‘isn’t that a good thing to be?’ or ‘but you are!’—which makes me wonder how other women are using this word—i mean, i believe it describes a pretty straightforwardly positive trait. in any case. TFoMS is sweet and, like certain other men i have known, doesn’t like to be told he is.
he’s getting more relaxed, too, so he’s more spontaneously witty and fun and all that good stuff. much less effortful to be around him. especially if you pour rye whiskey into him. (as i did. and have done. hey, you bring the oyster mushrooms, i can at least supply the rye.) he’s still a little awkward about The Sex and the intimate things, but, i feel like he’s exactly as awkward as a sane and caring person should be. i mean, those of the sane-and-caring who associate sex with intimacy. i could be wrong—have absolutely no experience with this whatsoever!—but. i get a warm sane feeling from him. the awkwardness is like a natural reticence. in the face of my unnatural enthusiasm. which is somehow soothing.
been trying to pick his chef-brain for advice/ideas for i’m starting a new job tomorrow—ugh, though i feel like i’ve started about 800 new jobs this year—well, more like 8—anyway, this job is at a bar that makes ‘craft cocktails.’ (and serves kind of weird kind of overly-complicated food.) it’s the polar opposite of the shitty sports bar where i was working. and i really don’t know how or why i got hired or what’s to become of me there, but. i should try to hope for the best. ‘everyone’ says They hired me because They liked me, so. they want to train me. so they’re not expecting anything so i shouldn’t worry. but still i’ll probably stay up all night watching youtube videos about how to properly manipulate a bar spoon and how to make a ramos gin fizz. (and wine!? wine! serving wine is the scariest. i know shit-all about wine. of course it’s not like i lied about that—-i knew i had to address my wine-qualification in my resume for this place—i wrote: “I have a tattoo of Bacchus.” that was all i could do. and it is true. and it is a great tattoo.) (and there’s some rhymes for you.)
* a joke but i think it’s a good talk to have. honestly. you get to talk about eating, dirt, and the other’s ability to appreciate the flavors of dirt. highly recommended.