Day 225 = Running + "Magic Jeans"

Damn my inner compass that doesn't work. I got off my route AGAIN this morning. Not sure how it happened, since I ran that route umpteen times in 2007, and I have a photographic memory, which doesn't seem to work at 7 am. I was supposed to have only run 9 miles, but due to the random detour I made, I ended up running 9.5 miles. I could've done 10 miles, but I just wanted to wrap it up. You know, cuz tacos were a-waitin'.

Today was another legendary match up between Texas and Oklahoma, known as the Red River Rivalry, which is at the Cotton Bowl each year during the Texas State Fair. I've been in Austin for over four years, and this is something one learns upon having one's driver's license updated when one moves to Austin. So I went to a party at Mark's house, who I finally met this year, by the way. He has this big keg party and in the past it's gone on well into the night with flip cup and horse shoe competitions under the moonlight. But he's also got this bull in his backyard, so I made it a point to get a photo with him.

I was wearing my "magic jeans" today, so maybe that had something to do with how the night progressed. I call them magic jeans because they can't be confused with my "lucky pants." After this weekend, I've decided that the magic jeans need a belt because they come off too easy (ahem, I'm losing weight, not that I'm easy) and I need to pass them around to my other single friends like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Share the love.

Here's why these jeans are magical. In addition to some unsolicited groping and hugging by men I've known for years yet who've obviously never seen me as a sexual being, I was propositioned four times today. I'm just sayin' - it's the jeans, y'all! One guy wanted to know his chances with me, and I said 0.000000000002%, to which he replied he thought he had a chance. Uh, no. You don't. But you're sweet and we can still be friends.

Then, out of the blue, I get another call from a guy I've known for a few years and he wants to know if I want to meet up with him and some other friends we know for drinks. So I did. I wasn't ready to go home yet and take off my magical jeans. So we hung out and I let him be my wingman for the night. I am continually amazed at what comes out of the mouths of men. Amazing. It's normally not what I want to hear. But it is entertaining. Among the things I heard at the bar that night (some of which was captured on my digital voice recorder unbeknownst to me):

Dude 1: "Where are you staying tonight?"
Me: "Probably going to crash on my friend's couch."
Dude 1: "I wish I were that couch."

Then I turned to my friend and asked him to please cock-block me. So while he was occupied with Dude 1, I wandered on the dance floor to dance with Dude 2, who we were calling "Eastern European Guy" all night with his white outfit, white beret and gold chains. I was only dancing with him because it was funny to me, and he was the only one dancing. So he whispers in my ear:

EEG: "Let's go in that hallway."
Me: "Why?"
EEG: "Because I want to make out with you but not right here."
Me: "Uh, no. I don't know you. But thanks." And I walked back to my friend, confused about should I be insulted that this douchebag doesn't want to be seen with me or was he just trying to respect my privacy? Thoughts get blurry with rum, so I'm not really sure what to think.

But the best thing I heard all night was when I sobered up at my friend's house while sitting in front of a fire in his backyard, he says, "Obligatory makeout?" And I'm like, "What did you just say???" And he repeated it, whispering it in my ear. I tried to maintain a straight face. There's nothing wrong with him; he's a nice, handsome man who is fun to hang around. But I just do not want to venture into the shitting-where-I-eat territory anymore, let alone the fact that he used to date a friend, and I'd need her blessing. So I just said thank you but no. I really need to go home.

Sometimes you gotta take the bull by the horns and remember who's in control.