Talking with Strange Men
No, I don't mean Mr. Bingley.*
I did laundry tonight using the facilities in the building's basement (bye-bye quarters!). Most times I go to my parents' but something made me decide to stay home this time. While my clothes were drying, I received a phone call from the other party in my friend's matchmaking scheme. I tried my hardest to be my witty self, avoid TMI or weird topics, and so on. We talked about where we grew up, what schools we attended (I hope the five-year age difference won't give him pause; I get along better with people who aren't the same age as I am), admitted we're both introverts (whew). So at least the ice has been broken. We wrapped up after about half an hour--not sure how it went, but I think when he says, "You have my number, right?" that means he'd like me to call him so we can talk again--but anyway it was fine because I had stuff in the dryer I needed to check.
The basement is divided and the steps closest to my apartment are on the "wrong" side to access the laundry, so I just take the nearby lobby elevator down to the basement when I do wash. As I was waiting for the elevator to come down from the third floor, I noticed that a fellow was having trouble getting his key to work in the lobby door. (I figured he must be new--it's hard to remember to put the key in, turn it in the lock, and turn the handle as well. Weird door.) Just as I went to let him in, he got the door open. I asked if he was O.K. and he said he was new (boy, I'm good).
He waited for the elevator with me, and when it arrived we both got in. I pushed the button for the basement; he didn't push a different floor. He asked, in what sounded like an African-type accent, if I had lived here long. I told him I moved here in March--and he said, "Oh, a long time--we moved in four days ago." Relatively speaking, he's got a point. I felt bad when he seemed surprised we went to the basement and it was my stop--all I had in my hands was my keys and some quarters, but, well, the first few weeks in a new apartment are full of surprises. Even I got a surprise when the one washer I set on "warm" yielded clean but steaming hot clothes.
But in any event, it's nice having a few strange conversations.
*I kid, I kid.
I did laundry tonight using the facilities in the building's basement (bye-bye quarters!). Most times I go to my parents' but something made me decide to stay home this time. While my clothes were drying, I received a phone call from the other party in my friend's matchmaking scheme. I tried my hardest to be my witty self, avoid TMI or weird topics, and so on. We talked about where we grew up, what schools we attended (I hope the five-year age difference won't give him pause; I get along better with people who aren't the same age as I am), admitted we're both introverts (whew). So at least the ice has been broken. We wrapped up after about half an hour--not sure how it went, but I think when he says, "You have my number, right?" that means he'd like me to call him so we can talk again--but anyway it was fine because I had stuff in the dryer I needed to check.
The basement is divided and the steps closest to my apartment are on the "wrong" side to access the laundry, so I just take the nearby lobby elevator down to the basement when I do wash. As I was waiting for the elevator to come down from the third floor, I noticed that a fellow was having trouble getting his key to work in the lobby door. (I figured he must be new--it's hard to remember to put the key in, turn it in the lock, and turn the handle as well. Weird door.) Just as I went to let him in, he got the door open. I asked if he was O.K. and he said he was new (boy, I'm good).
He waited for the elevator with me, and when it arrived we both got in. I pushed the button for the basement; he didn't push a different floor. He asked, in what sounded like an African-type accent, if I had lived here long. I told him I moved here in March--and he said, "Oh, a long time--we moved in four days ago." Relatively speaking, he's got a point. I felt bad when he seemed surprised we went to the basement and it was my stop--all I had in my hands was my keys and some quarters, but, well, the first few weeks in a new apartment are full of surprises. Even I got a surprise when the one washer I set on "warm" yielded clean but steaming hot clothes.
But in any event, it's nice having a few strange conversations.
*I kid, I kid.
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