922403:02

The strangest thing happened to me earlier this evening. I was riding my bike at a moderately quick speed, but certainly not too fast, when I took a corner and noticed myself start to loose traction. My bike began to slide out from under me when I braked. From my already tilted position, I then seemed to simply fly right over the handlebars, after which, much like a comicbook superhero, I landed safely in a kneeling position.

I checked the road around the spot, and found nothing that would make me skid. No excess sand, no oil, nothing. It seemed as if my bike just decided to make it's own physical laws for a brief instant. For the rest of the evening, I was very cautious about every single turn.

Well, I had my "date," and I still can't decide whether it was a date or not. All we did was rent a few movies and get a pizza, but something was different about it. For starters, our "see you later" moment is no longer "see you whenever," but rather "what are ou doing tomorrow," and what was once friendly flirting now seems so calculated. I can't figure it out.

Maybe it would have been different if I had picked a differnet movie. We watched "Ghost World" which reminded me of Lisa for two reasons: 1) Lisa acts like the character of Enid, in that she doesn't know what she wants out of life, but knows how to influence and torture people in order to make her life more interesting. And, 2) She has really nice boobs. I think about this often, but would never let her know. (Once, she even said to me "You know, most guys obsess over my rack, but not only do you not make a big deal out of it, you seem to go out of your way not to touch them when we're cuddling." Of course, I wasn't going to just sit idly by and be the nice guy, so I responded with "Oh, now don't think it's because I don't want to" at which point I gave her a double-palmed hello, if you know what I mean, and got slugged.) Come to think of it, Lisa is exactly like the character of Enid, except she would have moved in with Steve Buschemi, and continued to torture Josh, rather than getting on the bus.

So, with all of this going on in my head, I didn't really have time to think about what to do about the girl I was actually spending time with that evening. I shouldn't have been thinking about her anyway. All these years, whenever we've hung out, I didn't have to think about her like I have been lately. Now, our knees bump together, and I begin to wonder what it means, and start asking myself where levels of comfort should be defined.... Oh, christ, I shoulf just make a fucking move tomorrow.