So last night’s trip down memory lane led me to receive, via e-mail, a response that I sort of expected to receive from at least one person: look up Jen and contact her.
There are a few problems with this idea, most of which stem from the fact that the whole thing happened over 14 years ago.
While I’m reasonably certain that, at the time, the developing attraction was mutual, I doubt that I made as much of an impression on her as she did on me because a) I’m Jon, and therefore don’t make that kind of impression on anyone b) it was 14 years ago, so even if I did make a big impression on her back then, she has no doubt forgotten me. Most people who aren’t Jon and therefore don’t commit what are essentially insignificant events – and people – to memory the way that I do can hardly be expected to recall a casual acquaintance from more than a decade ago.
Then there’s the whole creep factor – what woman anywhere wants to have some random guy she kind of knew 14 years ago looking her up and contacting her out of the blue?
Then there’s the simple fact that her last name may no longer be the same.
Also, while being five years older than I am wasn’t a big deal when I was 20-21, now it would mean that she’d be a 40 year-old hag (I kid, I kid.).
I’m sure these could all be written of as me making excuses, but even if they are just excuses – though I say they are simply practical considerations – they’re still good enough excuses to keep me from trying to track her down.
(Besides, let’s say for the sake of argument that I did look her up: none of the matches I found were actually her. Hypothetically speaking, of course.)
Today I got a call from yet another recruiter for yet another contract job, though this one would pay better than most of the contract jobs I’ve been contacted about.
I’m still holding out hope that I’ll hear from the recruiter about that other job, as, despite the fact that it would involve actually working five days a week. I haven’t heard anything more on it, but the phone conversation went well, and she told me that the person I’d actually be working for liked my résumé, so I haven’t given up hope yet, especially since she said that I should be hearing from her by Friday.
This morning I finally went out to buy some sheets to replace the mysteriously shredded set I had. I’m not really thrilled with them, but it was the least objectionable set I could find. There were some others that were a little nicer, but they wouldn’t have matched my existing comforter set as well as the set I bought, though I’d really like to know at what point in my life I started caring about things like whether or not my sheets matched my comforter.
I suppose it started when I finally began making enough money to be able to afford to care about things like that. Apparently even though I’m no longer in that financial state I’m still in that mental state.
Oh well; at least I have new, freshly-laundered sheets to sleep in tonight.
Apart from buying new sheets and talking to the latest recruiter (and my mother), the only major event of the day was me taking the time to sit down and read the comics I bought yesterday. I still haven’t gotten used to the idea that I have to actually set aside time to read my comics rather than bringing them in with me to read at work on Saturdays, as I still haven’t gotten used to the idea that I don’t work.
*Sigh* Hopefully that will change soon enough.
I’ve actually attempted to make a deal with the Universe that would ensure that I get the job I want, but I doubt that it’ll go for it.
What are the terms of the deal? Well, if I get the job I want, I won’t be needing the services of the hot recruiter I met with the other day, therefore she won’t have the “it would be unprofessional” defense were I to ask her out, therefore I’m free to ask her out and the Universe can laugh its ass off when she shoots me down in flames. That way I get a job and the Universe can take delight in the latest crushing blow to my ego. It’s Win-Win.
Of course, the Universe tends to prefer Win-Lose deals, so it may prevent me from getting the job and then goad me into asking her out anyway so that in the end I can feel doubly rejected, and the Universe can say, “Ha ha! You don’t get the job or the girl!”
Big dumb mean Universe.
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