God's Plan for Me

Apparently does not include riding a motorcycle. Bummer.

So, months ago I decided that since I can no longer pay for a trip on a motorcycle, as in the Third World, I needed to learn how to ride myself, and I had signed up for a motorcycle riding course taught at Northern Virginia Community College. The course is taught in a weekend, and they're pretty emphatic that you have to be on time in order to pass the class.

My class began yesterday at 6:00 PM. I left work at 4:15 to get there on time, but unfortunately, between traffic and the lack of signage that is Northern Virginia, I spent twenty minutes looking for the entrance onto campus and for the building in which the class was held. I was 15 minutes late, right in time for one of the teachers, who had the very sore look of a stick up his a**, to tell me that I couldn't join the class because it started fifteen minutes ago. Which is so ridiculous because dammit, I'm a smart girl and could have figured it out.

Whatever.

So, after bursting hysterically into tears (unfortunately, not in front of the mean teacher, who might have let me into the class because men can't handle tears), I jumped in Greta and Michael's car that they had loaned me (sorry, Greta and Michael--perhaps not the wisest thing for me to do in terms of driver safety!) and drove their car back to their house.

Their house is in Alexandria, right by the Braddock Road metro, which is coincidentally, very close to where Superman lives. Superman had invited me out on a date for Friday, which I had had to push back because of my motorcycle class, so after cleaning myself up a bit, I call him and ask if he's made alternative plans.

He had none that involved other people, so instead of heading off to Bed Bath and Beyond to improve his apartment, he drove the metro, picked me up, and we went out to dinner at Five Guys (burger and fries). True to form, we closed down the restaurant and contemplated what to do next. It was really cold, so walking around Old Town was out, but we both knew we wanted to continue the date. So, we opted to go back to his house to watch a movie (which I had really sworn to myself that I wouldn't do until date #4, but when have I ever exercised self-restraint?).

I'm proud to say that we actually watched the movie before we started our marathon makeout session (another thing I had promised myself wouldn't happen until date #4--I suck at this game!). When he finally took me home around 4 AM, we had covered, once again, all possible avenues of conversation--religion again, morbid art, sexual and marital histories (really, kids, this is only date #2!), vomiting, wow.

It's like we're on a train, and I'm not sure where we're going, but we're definitely traveling at a high rate of speed. And probably not on a motorcycle.