Recently I met a guy in whom I was interested, and my pro-active straight friends decided to help push things along. They were going to a Carolina Panthers game over the weekend and had some extra tickets. My friend invited me, and she got one of her friends who knew the gentleman of interest to invite him. I was excited at the prospect of getting to spend some time with this guy, and I figured a group setting would be less stressful than a formal date.
We had arranged to meet at a bar near the stadium that had outside tables. It was a beautiful afternoon and everyone was looking forward to dinner outdoors. Seating was strategically planned so that I would be beside my guy. Unfortunately, once everyone was in place, a female in the group who was unaware of the dynamics asked if anyone would trade seats with her because she was getting too much sun. My guy immediately got up and traded seats.
I was still a bit nonplussed with this development when I got a text message on my cell phone. It was a flirty comment from my guy! My mood immediately improved. During dinner and the accompanying conversations, we traded flirty text messages with each other discretely under the table. It felt fun and a bit naughty. Soon it was time to go to the game.
Again, my awesome friends had arranged for me to sit beside my person of interest. At this point, things began to get strange. The guy positioned himself with his back to me (WTF??) and engaged the woman (one of our group) sitting on the other side of him in conversation. I tried once or twice to start a conversation, but he’d always eventually turn back to his friend. Disenchanted, I went with one of my friends to get a beer. Then the text messages started to arrive:
“Where’d you go?”
“Ur not leaving, are you?”
Now I was getting annoyed. It’s one thing to text me when we’re not sitting together, but to talk to your friend while I’m sitting beside you and THEN send a text after I leave is completely aggravating. I was sure when I returned he would be more attentive, but that didn’t seem to be the case. So I just struck up a conversation of my own with the friend on the other side of me.
After the game, I was convinced there were no sparks between myself and this guy—but my friend assured me he was interested. In a last ditch effort, I asked the guy if he’d want to have dinner together sometime soon. He said he would.
I guess the next step is to get something scheduled. I’m totally willing to take the initiative to call this guy and make some plans. I just hope this time he’ll actually speak to me instead of texting. Maybe we can have dinner at a hospital cafeteria—last I heard, they don’t allow cell phones in hospitals.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
The First Anniversary
I was looking at my calendar this week and realized that it was one year ago that I left my dental practice. In some ways it seems like it was only yesterday. In others it seems like a lifetime ago. It seems like forever since I actually worked on a patient. Unfortunately, the feelings I was having last year at this time are still pretty strong whenever I think about going back to dentistry. And the feelings I was having that last day at the office are still with me.
Because they knew I was leaving and a new doctor was coming in who would need to be trained, etc, most of the staff at my office decided to go on vacation the last two weeks I was there. It was reasonable to do so, and I don’t blame them—but it didn’t make my last two weeks a lot of fun. I was left to manage the office by myself. I got through it, but then on my last day—as my last patient walked out the door—I packed up my stuff and went to say ‘goodbye’. I was halfway down the hall before I realized there wasn’t really anyone to say ‘goodbye’ to. I had been working with the other doctor’s assistant that week, and we weren’t really that close. There was a new woman we had hired who was acting as receptionist, so she & I were still relative strangers as well. I just took my belongings and walked out the back. I remember feeling as though the profession I had never really liked apparently didn’t like me either.
So how am I feeling one year later? I’m still a little apprehensive about the future. I like my new job, and I’m learning a lot from the friend who hired me. I watch him work and it all seems to come so easy for him. I wonder if I will get to that point. I remind myself that he’s been doing this job for 12 years, and I’m only 8 months in—but it can still be intimidating.
I do feel like I’m on a better path now. I feel like I am growing again as an individual and as a member of my community. Dentistry left me so drained I didn’t pursue outside activities. Since leaving, I have joined the Board of a performance theatre and have really been able to dedicate some time to them. I’ve met a lot of people I would not have met otherwise—people of varied backgrounds and experiences from whom I feel I can learn. And I’ve been able to spend more time with the friends and family I already had.
All in all, it’s been a challenging and rewarding year. Was leaving dentistry the right decision? I believe it was, for me. Am I where I want to be? Honestly, not yet. But I feel like I’m heading in the right direction. It will be interesting to see where I am next year at this time.
Because they knew I was leaving and a new doctor was coming in who would need to be trained, etc, most of the staff at my office decided to go on vacation the last two weeks I was there. It was reasonable to do so, and I don’t blame them—but it didn’t make my last two weeks a lot of fun. I was left to manage the office by myself. I got through it, but then on my last day—as my last patient walked out the door—I packed up my stuff and went to say ‘goodbye’. I was halfway down the hall before I realized there wasn’t really anyone to say ‘goodbye’ to. I had been working with the other doctor’s assistant that week, and we weren’t really that close. There was a new woman we had hired who was acting as receptionist, so she & I were still relative strangers as well. I just took my belongings and walked out the back. I remember feeling as though the profession I had never really liked apparently didn’t like me either.
So how am I feeling one year later? I’m still a little apprehensive about the future. I like my new job, and I’m learning a lot from the friend who hired me. I watch him work and it all seems to come so easy for him. I wonder if I will get to that point. I remind myself that he’s been doing this job for 12 years, and I’m only 8 months in—but it can still be intimidating.
I do feel like I’m on a better path now. I feel like I am growing again as an individual and as a member of my community. Dentistry left me so drained I didn’t pursue outside activities. Since leaving, I have joined the Board of a performance theatre and have really been able to dedicate some time to them. I’ve met a lot of people I would not have met otherwise—people of varied backgrounds and experiences from whom I feel I can learn. And I’ve been able to spend more time with the friends and family I already had.
All in all, it’s been a challenging and rewarding year. Was leaving dentistry the right decision? I believe it was, for me. Am I where I want to be? Honestly, not yet. But I feel like I’m heading in the right direction. It will be interesting to see where I am next year at this time.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Grave Concerns, Part Two
What is it about dead birds that’s so unnerving? I grew up in a small town in the South, and seeing dead animals is nothing new to me. All manner of fauna could be found smushed along our rural country roads. Smelly? Oftentimes. But not as unpleasant on a visceral level as seeing a dead bird.
For the longest time I assumed maybe it was just me that felt this way, but then I heard an Eddie Murphy comedy album and he talked about terrorizing young girls when he was a child by threatening to put a dead bird on them. It was comforting to know that I wasn’t alone. I at least shared a phobia with the three-year old girls of the world.
I was jogging this past Saturday morning, listening to some old school club music*, and feeling very self-satisfied. Here I was doing something positive for my health while the rest of the world recovered from their hangovers. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and life was good. Suddenly I spied something directly in my path. It was a dead bird. Even though there was no turntable in sight, it was as if the needle had scratched and the music had stopped. It was horrible—just a compact pile of feathers and claws jutting out at odd angles. To my gay sensibilities it looked like a drag queen who had perished in some unfortunate sky-diving accident. The remainder of my run was haunted by the spectre of that feathered carcass.
As I finished my run, I tried to ascertain what it was about dead birds that freaked me out. Death itself doesn’t really bother me. And I like birds, as a general rule. I don’t think I’d want one as a pet—they are totally messy animals—but I like seeing them out in nature. Many of them are quite beautiful. I think that’s where the shock derives: how can something so beautiful in life look so unsightly in death? It’s as if, in the mere act of succumbing, everything that makes a bird so beautiful goes haywire. For the most part, you don’t see that anywhere else in the animal kingdom. Fish float upside down. People just turn grey. Birds die and suddenly it’s feathers and beaks and claws in complete disarray.
I haven’t decided if the fault lies with the bird, or with the feathers. Just in case, though—I need to leave some funeral instructions for dressing my corpse. If they have a viewing before my eco-burial, ABSOLUTELY NO FEATHER BOAS.
*”Kickin’ in the Beat” by Pamela Fernandez, if you must know. I DARE you to be unhappy when you listen to this song. It’s NOT possible.
For the longest time I assumed maybe it was just me that felt this way, but then I heard an Eddie Murphy comedy album and he talked about terrorizing young girls when he was a child by threatening to put a dead bird on them. It was comforting to know that I wasn’t alone. I at least shared a phobia with the three-year old girls of the world.
I was jogging this past Saturday morning, listening to some old school club music*, and feeling very self-satisfied. Here I was doing something positive for my health while the rest of the world recovered from their hangovers. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and life was good. Suddenly I spied something directly in my path. It was a dead bird. Even though there was no turntable in sight, it was as if the needle had scratched and the music had stopped. It was horrible—just a compact pile of feathers and claws jutting out at odd angles. To my gay sensibilities it looked like a drag queen who had perished in some unfortunate sky-diving accident. The remainder of my run was haunted by the spectre of that feathered carcass.
As I finished my run, I tried to ascertain what it was about dead birds that freaked me out. Death itself doesn’t really bother me. And I like birds, as a general rule. I don’t think I’d want one as a pet—they are totally messy animals—but I like seeing them out in nature. Many of them are quite beautiful. I think that’s where the shock derives: how can something so beautiful in life look so unsightly in death? It’s as if, in the mere act of succumbing, everything that makes a bird so beautiful goes haywire. For the most part, you don’t see that anywhere else in the animal kingdom. Fish float upside down. People just turn grey. Birds die and suddenly it’s feathers and beaks and claws in complete disarray.
I haven’t decided if the fault lies with the bird, or with the feathers. Just in case, though—I need to leave some funeral instructions for dressing my corpse. If they have a viewing before my eco-burial, ABSOLUTELY NO FEATHER BOAS.
*”Kickin’ in the Beat” by Pamela Fernandez, if you must know. I DARE you to be unhappy when you listen to this song. It’s NOT possible.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
