White coat

Fionna was in town, and I took her to the Barney’s
warehouse sale, even though I had already bought my
one clothing item that week, two days earlier. I
ended up buying a white-ish coat at the sale,
promising myself I wouldn’t buy anything that coming
weekend, to make up for the unplanned purchase. I had
a ridiculous blind date coming up, and I wanted to
wear the white coat on the date. I say the date was
ridiculous because we already knew we were sexually
incompatible. I think we just wanted to go on the
date. Before our movie, we went and had pizza. We
were both wearing pink shirts and brown ties, which
was odd. At one point, I looked down and saw that oil
from the pizza had dripped onto my tie. The guy was
adorable, though I was repulsed a bit by his
mannerisms, but I decided I would see him again. I
emailed him and told him I had fun, which was enormous
progress for me. Whenever I go out on a date, I never
want to see the guy again, ever. But this time, I was
willing to overlook his child-like mannerisms (I want
to be the only child in the relationship) and see what
happened the next time we met, when he was less
nervous. But it seemed that he had had less fun than
me. I never saw him again. But still, I swear – it
was progress for me!

I am never able to muster up disappointment anymore
when a date or a sexual encounter doesn’t lead to
anything else. My emotions are there, but muted –
like beige tones. Similarly, in any of the great
tragedies of my life, I can never remember what I was
feeling, but I can definitely tell you what I was
wearing. Although this date wasn’t a tragedy, per se,
I remember I was wearing a pink shirt and a brown tie
with white dots, and blue cotton pants, and that white
coat.