The Math Teacher: Part 2

I can't sleep tonight. Usually it's because I'm thinking about the Ex-boyfriend. Usually it's because I can't believe things didn't work out with David. But tonight, I'm thinking about the Math Teacher. Surprising, I know. I'm not sure how I feel about him. I'm not sure what will happen. Of course I'm not ready. And I wasn't ready. And I won't be ready. Not for awhile anyways. But I think you should know the truth about him. The truth that he might just be... a good guy.

So - we went bowling. Two Fridays ago. Or maybe it was three. Time when you are working like a dog, 7 days a week, 11 hours a day and your heart is full of lost love can be an impossible thing to keep track of. I am tired and I am delirious. And I thought of canceling (for the second time) on the Math Teacher. But I didn't. How could I do that? That would make me, well, just an inconsiderate asshole. So - I went bowling.

Now I did of course share a bottle of wine with my coworker Amber before I headed to meet him at Lucky Strike at the Verizon Center in Chinatown. And I did of course pop into Clyde's to down a glass of white wine like it was really my job and I was billing $300 to drink it. I was a little tipsy for this date. A little sedated. Because as we all know by now, I wasn't ready. And yet - I went bowling.

And he was there waiting. As always. On time. And he paid for our shoes and for our games. Even though it is CRAZY expensive to bowl at Lucky Strike. I know its a cool place with a bar and music and food and ambiance but still...its bowling people! some things should remain pure, but I digress.

And we played and I was awful. And he was slightly less awful. And it was fun. Actual, pure, non-sexual, not even that romantic --- fun. It was just nice you know? To hang out with someone. To do something stupid and random and silly and whatever. Bowling is always good for that. Isn't it?

He bet me that if he won I had to eat a pickle. (I hate - HATE - pickles with a passion. Ask me about it some time). I bet him that if I won a game he would have to wear this translucent white shirt he owns from his days in Miami out with our friends some time. Betting is fun. Flirtatious. Pointless. Delicious.

Some of you have wondered how it is that I've treated him so poorly...I think its just that I'm so flippant and ambivalent and lackadaisical. Like when we were done I just handed him my shoes to return without saying thank you and said I was going to the restroom. That's not like me. I'm nice and polite and considerate. And treat people like human beings. Instead I treated him like my waiter, my meal ticket, my doormat. Just in my attitude. In my words. In my subtle actions. I'm not proud of this. But it is true.

He said he was hungry. He is ALWAYS hungry. But he is SUPER TALL and very fit and trim and so I can see how his metabolism is like that. I wish my body were like that. I eat nothing and am not hungry ever and yet I still carry the pounds. It sucks. But I digress again...

We went downstairs to Thai Chili. I love that place. It was my suggestion. I said I wasn't hungry but then I proceeded to eat half his Pad Thai without asking. (I know that is SO annoying for guys). We each had a beer. On four square I saw that my friends were nearby. I told them to join us.

Let me repeat that in case you didn't get it - I invited two girls to join us on our date. hah. Our third date. The four of us. Classic.

They showed up and I acted surprised to see them. They said they were going to Rocket Bar across the street. I said "OF COURSE WE ARE COMING!!!" I didn't even ask him. He paid the bill and followed me like a puppy. We went across the street. And I in drunken enthusiasm caught up with my two girl friends and one guy friend who joined us for the first time in a long time. Mostly we talked about the boy problems the two girls were having. For once, I was glad that they boy problems weren't my own.

The MT sat there and listened. And asked questions. And engaged. He was nice. Really nice. I don't even know if I spoke one word to him for hours. I hadn't even noticed that he was still there. Finally he got up and said he was leaving. It was late and he had to get up. I didn't even stand up to hug him or kiss him goodbye. I didn't even say thank you. To put it bluntly... I was a bitch. I waved my hand in the air nonchalantly and said " Okay...BYE!"

When he was gone my girl friends gushed and gushed about him. They said I had taken a step up in every way. In looks, in personality, in the way he treated me. "But he's just the rebound guy," I said with no feeling. But they could not be persuaded to believe that, though it was true. Then we talk and drank for what seemed like hours. I got completely sauced and I remember them asking me if I had money and putting me in a cab.

It was marvelous. Really and truly. I know all this drinking and abusing men isn't healthy. But it was good to see old friends. Friends I'd seen less of to spend time with David's friends. Friends who think I'm fun. And nice. And worthy. Friends who have an opinion on who I date. Friends who don't judge. And who put me in a cab and tell me it's time to go home.

And I remember thinking in the morning what an ass I was. And also, that maybe, just maybe, The Math Teacher...was actually...a good guy.