The preacher has mentioned going out on more than one occasion. Always in instant messages though. The lack of personal touch in instant messaging makes me question the seriousness of the requests, but I tucked them away for use on a rainy day.
The day turned out to not be so rainy and the extending of an actual invite came from me… not in the form of an instant message, but one click more personal in the whole the scheme of technology driven quasi dating circa 2009.
The Dallas Museum of Art has fabulous jazz in the atrium on Thursdays and I thought, what better way to stoke the romantic fires than with art and jazz?
So I put on my peacock dress, watch an amazing art film that makes me cry a bit, discover that my favorite exhibit has been replaced with what is a pathetic excuse for art that I can only describe as disappointing at best (or a good excuse to blind myself to be more to the point), and then settle at a table in the atrium with a glass of wine to wait for the preacher.
He arrives. There is no fire to stoke. Jazz and art are unnecessary kindling for an empty fire pit… or perhaps a pot belly stove… I like those. Clearly he was just as disinterested as instant messaging might imply. No big deal. He brings up the ex. I reciprocate by bringing up his ex. He mentions that I’m still single. I return the favor. He politely says we should hang out more often. I agree. Then we part ways.