In which I throw in the towel

Yeah, I'm an idiot. I watched Mr. Actuary pick up and proceed to make out with (at the table!) a tiny European creature last night. He left with her rather than play the late-night cash game. It must be love. :P

Last Thursday, Mr. WPY and I had a perfectly lovely time chatting over dinner and playing shuttleboard with our usual cheerful competitiveness. No romance there at all. He's off to Vegas this weekend for 4 days on a work-related junket. In our host's kitchen last night, with a couple of other people present, he allowed as how there was an extra bed in his room if anyone wanted a free hotel stay while he was there. I then actually performed an experiment where I wandered aimlessly into an empty, neighboring room to see if he would follow me. He did. (WTF?)

I guess I've made a new friend, TH, the host of last week's overnight extravaganza. He seems like a genuinely nice guy. His apartment was littered with moving boxes and left-over baby paraphernalia. I gather from Mr. Actuary that his wife/girlfriend & baby are departed. I didn't ask him about it, as I think this comes under the heading of "Likely Sore Subject." The only things I know for sure about him are that he has good taste in music (a Cecilia Bartoli fan, for example) and he is willing to have breakfast with me after an all-nighter. (He is, however, the only person I've ever seen fall asleep ~ for 5 seconds only ~ literally in the middle of a sentence, sitting up at a restaurant table. Most amusing!)

I wore a dress last night; this is apparently enough to enflame the interest of smarmy men I find totally unappealing. One particular lothario informed me that I looked like Jamie Lee Curtis, "only cuter." He proceeded to stare at my chest and make pay-attention-to-me remarks until I felted him without mercy. He kissed the hand I proffered for him to shake upon his demise. Ew.

Is there some unwritten law of the universe that says I must be pursued by creeps and overlooked by gems? Bah!