Karmic Musings

I...

did not get laid last night.

For you see, despite having spent Valentine's Day having dinner with estranged relatives, it seems that the Ex in question (aka- The One Who Got Away) does, in fact, have a girlfriend.

Typical.

What is it with Irish-descended vegetarians from a certain Not-So-Southern Southern State and their tendency to not mention the existence of girlfriends until I've had time to develop expecations, be they sexual or otherwise?

*grumble*

Yeah, so perhaps I noticed some eerie similarities between B and TOWGA. Speaking of which, TOWGA needs a new nickname. This current name bespeaks a certain level of optimism that perhaps, one day, he won't get away... and really I need to stop kidding myself. Looking for a future in my past has never done me any good; I need a new strategy. Henceforth TOWGA shall be known as Cambodia, because that is where he and his girlfriend are apparently moving in the Fall.

Right.

Despite the lack of naked gymnastics or, you know, orgasms, we did pass a pleasant few hours over $3 pints of Guiness, leaving me a bit too tipsy to actually do any homework when I got home--but not too tipsy to read Pablo Neruda love poetry over the shoulder of a cute guy on the G train. Apon arriving at my apartment alone, I promptly inhaled a frozen pizza and, being that I was too buzzed to actually concentrate and was feeling sleepy anyway, went to bed at 9pm.

However, this morning on the way to work, I think I finally figured out my inability to locate and/or attract an attractive, single gentlemen for carnal amusement or otherwise. Karma, it seems, has a different plan for me.

She keeps sending me homeless men.

Yesterday, for example, I had a homeless guy throw a newspaper at me.

I was stopping off at my bank to grab cash before meeting Cambodia, and when I entered the ATM vestibule an employee was in the process of removing a sleeping homeless man from the radiator. Upon climbing down he immediately stumbled directly into the nearest ATM with a resounding thud, and I therefore scurried away around a corner to remove myself from his trajectory.

(Note: If you look up "innocent bystander" in the dictionary, you'll find my picture. I have good reason to be cautious!)

The man was expelled from the premises and I got my money from the ATM. As I was heading out the door I noticed him walking back, and assumed he was just going to come right back in.

But no.

He mumbles something incoherent, chucks his newspaper at me, and stumbles off as I shout "Gee thanks buddy! That was awfully nice of you!" over my shoulder.

Perhaps I should have bought him a drink? After all, he had technically just attacked me with his pillow... perhaps he was only trying to instigate a friendly pillow fight? Or inviting me to come take a nap with him? He did resemble Charles Manson on a particularly bad acid trip, but he could potentially clean up well.

Then this morning there was another homeless (or possibly just crazy) man on my block collecting bottles from the garbage and loading them into a baby stroller, talking to himself all the while. As I passed he turned and shouted something that sounded like:

"Ah-oo nah la poo-tah hey no?"

Which for all I know could have meant "Pardon me Miss, but I would love to escort you to the ballet some evening," or "Microsoft will cap at 350."

And so, Madame Karma, I get it. This is your little way of telling me that I'm too fucking picky.

Fair enough.

But really, asking for a man who's showered in the past month and has some form of steady employment really isn't too much to ask... is it?