Enter Insanity - Oxford Style
I have been doing well, being good. And that's not easy for me, but its made much easier because the only male-friend I had, semi-friend that he was, wasn't exactly interested in me for my gender. Anyways. Yesterday we began programming. So I feel like in addition to a recap of events yesterday I should also get into a people recap. But first, my first day.
The little man inside me that has been, recently, jumping up and down saying "oh my god its Oxford" changed his tune to something along the lines of "in over my head" about halfway through the first set of talks yesterday. As the afternoon progressed, academically of course, it shifted several more times, through excitement and apprehension, through dread and boredom. I still don't quite know how I feel about it all.
My course is predominantly female, not a good sign. But some of them are undoubtably lovely, so that made up for it a little, just a little. We went for drinks at the Uni Club, which was my first taste of some perks (finally! perks!) of being a graduate. As people trickled out, my blessedly party-friendly new crew decided to tag along on a pub crawl from another college. Then madness ensued.
Four bars, several new Canadians, countless others, more than a few drinks and way too far from home later, we ended up at a cavern-like club. I was let in without my student card and wound my way through the maze, between rooms separated by archways, with terribly low ceilings, not unlike (as my new friend pointed out) the catacombs beneath the city of Paris. Led by the hand, my crush of the evening wound me through to the dance floor.
Now for the crush... ah, I come all this way to meet home grown talent. Decidedly brilliant, we had chatted a fair bit through the night, me protesting on a few occasions that I was keeping him from his flock, and he protesting my protestations and buying me beer. By the final stop I had tried to leave and he had tried to keep me around, we had already exchanged friendly phone numbers and affection. So all that was left was that messy drunken kiss on the dance floor. Fine. Until he proposed that we leave and... ahem... well you know. My drunken logic stopped me, and I waffled, wanting him but not wanting him that way. I think (drunk as I was) that I offended him in suggesting that he just wanted in my pants. I took myself home, alone, and went to bed equally alone. First night out officially ended in Drama.
So today we rehashed, and I still can't tell if he was genuinely interested or just lining me up for that assertion at the end of the evening, he was certainly forward enough about it. So off the text went into the world, we'll see what comes back to me. I actually do like the guy, so hope that we can hang out again sometime soon. Ah well, if I'm lucky I'll be off to my next dramatic evening tonight... not likely though, considering the hildabeasts are my only companions.
As Anne pointed out, he has to be a jerk, otherwise he would be cute, smart AND nice, which is practically impossible.
The little man inside me that has been, recently, jumping up and down saying "oh my god its Oxford" changed his tune to something along the lines of "in over my head" about halfway through the first set of talks yesterday. As the afternoon progressed, academically of course, it shifted several more times, through excitement and apprehension, through dread and boredom. I still don't quite know how I feel about it all.
My course is predominantly female, not a good sign. But some of them are undoubtably lovely, so that made up for it a little, just a little. We went for drinks at the Uni Club, which was my first taste of some perks (finally! perks!) of being a graduate. As people trickled out, my blessedly party-friendly new crew decided to tag along on a pub crawl from another college. Then madness ensued.
Four bars, several new Canadians, countless others, more than a few drinks and way too far from home later, we ended up at a cavern-like club. I was let in without my student card and wound my way through the maze, between rooms separated by archways, with terribly low ceilings, not unlike (as my new friend pointed out) the catacombs beneath the city of Paris. Led by the hand, my crush of the evening wound me through to the dance floor.
Now for the crush... ah, I come all this way to meet home grown talent. Decidedly brilliant, we had chatted a fair bit through the night, me protesting on a few occasions that I was keeping him from his flock, and he protesting my protestations and buying me beer. By the final stop I had tried to leave and he had tried to keep me around, we had already exchanged friendly phone numbers and affection. So all that was left was that messy drunken kiss on the dance floor. Fine. Until he proposed that we leave and... ahem... well you know. My drunken logic stopped me, and I waffled, wanting him but not wanting him that way. I think (drunk as I was) that I offended him in suggesting that he just wanted in my pants. I took myself home, alone, and went to bed equally alone. First night out officially ended in Drama.
So today we rehashed, and I still can't tell if he was genuinely interested or just lining me up for that assertion at the end of the evening, he was certainly forward enough about it. So off the text went into the world, we'll see what comes back to me. I actually do like the guy, so hope that we can hang out again sometime soon. Ah well, if I'm lucky I'll be off to my next dramatic evening tonight... not likely though, considering the hildabeasts are my only companions.
As Anne pointed out, he has to be a jerk, otherwise he would be cute, smart AND nice, which is practically impossible.
posted by Care | 10:15 PM
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