Decisions being made for me

Tango and I spoke for a long time today. I "counseled" her on relationships and how to handle the situation with the guy she currently likes.

I called Miss Jen before going to Porter and Pinar's house. We are going out on Saturday more or less. I guess one of her friends just lost a close friend, so Miss Jen might be busy on Saturday consoling (she thinks that's the day of the funeral), so she warned me that she might have to cancel. It's all good.

Catfight

PROS
Miss Jen
-Cutest face ever
-Super smart
-Dedicated
-Volunteer-minded

Tango
-Also super cute face
-Shy (in an endearing way)
-Inexplicably sexy
-Likes world travel

CONS
Miss Jen
-Might think I'm a little goofy
-Maybe TOO smart?

Tango
-Never exercises, I think
-I don't want to have to open someone's eyes again

These are just silly things, of course, and I'd never make a decision in this way. I'm pretty much just doing it for fun, so whatevzies.

Miss Jen IV

I think that Miss Jen is like a crystal ball. An extraordinarily fragile thin glass thing that holds tremendous potential and confusing power. A person holding a crystal ball must feel awe for the power, but anxiety over the fragility and the apparent ease with which the ball could be reduced to nothingness.

I am excited about this girl because she is ridiculously cute, but also (and now mostly) because she is very smart and able to comprehend complex concepts. I'm nervous or something about ruining this, which is new and weird. I'm not in to playing games and counting days before I call or whatnot, but I really don't want to be all dorky and call super early. I don't know.

Oh, by the way, we met for coffee, it was excellent. I promised her that I was going to take her out for dinner. She agreed. Dope!

Tucson Day Trip or Miss Jen iii

Went to Tucson today with Adam.

Met with Lesley, the Peace Corps Recruiter.

Found out about Fellows International. Can get giant tuition forgiveness for Peace Corps service.

Love Falafel.

Miss Jen on phone. Coffee tomorrow, no dinner.

She has to babysit.

Told her that I want to take her out sometime also. She said sure.

Miss Jen II

It's Thursday and I'm on my way down to the bike shop to work on the 1973 yellow Schwinn Super Sport that a customer had given us the week before. I had promised the bike to a cute girl that Adam, Jose, and I had met at Cartel the week before. I'm walking to the back of the store, through the double doors and into the thick air of the warehouse area where there is no air conditioning. Through the rows of metal hooks I see the faint lemonade paint and the post-it note with my name on it. It's heavier than I expect, and I emit a low grunt unexpectedly while lowering it to the ground. The cracked gum wall tires, void of air, slide along the dusty treated concrete as we push back through the double doors. Hospital doors. Operating room. A rebirth seems imminent, and excitement begins tugging gently.


I hoist her heavy skeleton into the grabbing arm. As I'm wiping down the steel frame, it occurs to me that this bike completely outlived its significance before I was even born. Ten years or more of existence prior to obsolescence, and twelve years prior to my own arrival. I work through the bike slowly, noting the good condition on its metal, and the surprisingly good mechanics. It needs just a little love for the wheels, and the headset has to be completely repacked. The once slick grease has turned now to gum and sticks hard. New tires. New tubes. New chain. Grease and oil all around. Finally it's coming to a close.


I'm scrolling through the contacts on my phone now, and the worry tugs at the back of my throat a little bit as I am not seeing "Jen" anywhere. I remember now, and I zip down to 'Ms Jen (bike)'. I hit SEND a little too soon. I haven't thought of what to say yet. She isn't answering. Four rings. There she is. The conversation stumbles, but it's hard not to come out on top. I tell her that I'll call when I leave my house to go to Adam's dinner party. I'll drop it off on the way. No problem. No, it's on the way. Okay, I'll call you. Bye.


She sounded so professional on the phone. "Is that the bike shop which is located upon the corner of Southern and the 101 freeway?" she asked. Not really, not so many words, but memory seems to be so.


I change my shirt and wash my face. I grab the blue tie which looks like a church window, and the short stack of vinyl that I'm taking to Adam's. The bike is three pieces, and already loaded in the back half of my car. I call her as I pull on to Margo and head towards University. I should have just taken Priest. I know exactly where she's describing. Broadway, just before the 101. There is limited parking, but there's always limited parking when you live across the street from a park. I drive past the house so that I can turn around and face the proper direction. She is in the open garage, but didn't see my drive by. I slide up to the curb and pop my trunk. She sounds excited when I pull the frame out and stand it upside down on the sidewalk. I slide the wheels in with expertise, but realize that maybe she needs a tutorial. I took for granted her knowledge when she told me that she was piecing together a bike at the co-op. But her question speaks to inexperience: "So when the wheel has that lever on it, that's known as a quick release?" I take the wheel back off and show her how to do it right. How to adjust the brakes with extreme prejudice if need be. I warn about the wet wet chain and its staining intentions. Enough business.

Ms Jen: "Are those tires new? I hope you didn't spend too much fixing it up. Can I pay you back for them?"
Me: "Nah, I get all the stuff wholesale, so it really isn't very much."
Ms Jen: "Well, I feel like I want to repay you. Can I take you out for coffee?"
Me: "Yeah, that'd be great. I'm always down for a cup."
-we talk about nothing in particular...she comes back to the point-
Ms Jen: "So next week sometime then?"
Me: "Yeah, how about...Tuuuuuuuesday night?"
Ms Jen: "Yeah, that should be fine."
Me: "What do you think? Dinner?"
Ms Jen: "Yeah, that'd be nice."
Me: "Okay, awesome then."
Ms Jen: "You're vegan, right?
Me: "Yeah...is that a problem?"
Ms Jen: "No! I'm really down with vegan food. I love the places around here."
Me: "Okay, great, we'll go somewhere awesome then."
Ms Jen: "Well so thanks so much again, this is so awesome."
Me: "You're welcome, but it really isn't that big of a deal."
Ms Jen: "Well, can I give you a hug at least?"
Me: "Of course!"
*hug*
-now normally, this would be the exit point, but unexpected nervousness is too exciting to leave alone-
Ms Jen: "This is so perfect. I'm moving, and I was really hoping to have a bike when I moved."
Me: "Why are you moving? This place looks pretty rad." (the yard is really nice, and the neighborhood, too)
Ms Jen: "Oh yeah, it's great, but I sort of have to. The family is expanding."
Me: "..."
Ms Jen: "I live with a family. She's a schoolteacher, and she is pregnant now, so they'll need to the room."
Me: "Oh, raw deal."
Ms Jen: "Well, the original plan was that I'd leave in July, and then my friends had this house in South Scottsdale sort of, so it all works out pretty well actually. And now I have a bike, so it's perfect."
Me: "Well, excellent...Anyways, I should probably be going now, I need to get to that dinner party"
Ms Jen: "Oh, okay...well, thank you again so much, seriously"
Me: "No worries."
-hug-
Me: "Okay, I'll call you next week."
Ms Jen: "Alright!"
Me: "Bye, have a good night."
Ms Jen: "Bye, have fun at your party."

I drove off then. She was wearing the long short things that Leslie wanted more of, and a green t-shirt. Her body is unlike my normal preference, but I am drawn to it. Healthy. Curves, I think. But it isn't just her body. Her skin is the color of summer, or culture, I'm not really sure. Her freckles are each deep abysses into which I fall endlessly. She seems legitimate and enthusiastic, maybe even excited, and that has shed onto me as well. I don't know why I fall so easily, but I don't really care either.

Miss Jen

I'm having some coffee with Adam y Jose the other day at Cartel. Costa Rican Soy Au Laits for myself and Adam. Blue for Jose. Miss Jen sits down. I'm in love, naturally, as I fall in love with every girl I see. We all four strike up a conversation of sorts regarding random things and whatnots, as well as stuff or something. I agree to buy her love with a bike. (A customer at Landis donated her sweet old school yellow Schwinn the other day, which I accepted graciously). I am going to fix up the bike and then call Miss Jen and be like, "you owe me some mad sex." Nah, I won't bribe her. Or I will. Depends on if it will work or not.