The Juror

I recently had the unfortunate experience of being chosen to sit on the jury for what ended up being a twelve-day civil trial. The jury was a fun mix of young and old, and the deliberations were not half as dreadful as one would expect. But during this deliberation time, I began to take notice of one of my fellow jurors.

During the trial, one of my twenty-something fellow jurors came in at the last possible minute and mostly kept to himself. When he did speak, he usually made a comment about the goofy lawyer or the obnoxious amount of time spent at court. Nothing to make him really stand out.

When listening to testimony was over, the 9 of us returned to the jury room to have a round-table discussion and reach our unanimous verdict. The table was not actually round. Instead it was two rectangular tables placed to form a T. I sat to the side of one of the tables making the T. To my right (and around the corner of the table) was a middle-aged social worker, and to her right, the mysterious juror. On Friday when we started deliberating, he happened to be wearing a rather tight sweater. And since his bicep was in my direct line of vision.... well, let's just say he definitely started to stand out. I discovered later that afternoon that he is a personal trainer. This would explain the biceps.

As deliberations went on, mysterious man, social worker and I became the peanut gallery of the bunch. We often disregarded the other six and chatted amongst ourselves (Fret not justice system, we were reprimanded accordingly by the foreman). During one of our breaks, the Juror showed the social worker and me his "website", which was actually pictures of him. Without a shirt. And let me just say... DAMN! This kid was riiiiiiped. Had I not been in such an official setting (and had I had a few cocktails in me), I would have definitely tried to go and rip off that frivolous sweater. And perhaps his pants as well.

The Juror and I often found ourselves standing up and moving next to each other. And we found out he used to live down the street from me! He loves the neighborhood and still comes pretty often to visit friends. He has the same original iPod nano that I do, but his still works. I told him how mine did not and he told me he could probably fix it. We talked about my upcoming trip to Europe and his experiences there. All sorts of things. Eventually this led to him giving me his card and asking me to hit him up on Facebook. So I friended him and subsequently told him I liked his picture. It was him, once again, shirtless and looking HOT. He said, "Oh, you like that?" and I told him once again that I did. Obviously flirtatious? I don't know. But at this point I really just wanted his muscular body to dominate me. Maybe in the courtroom?

Anyway, we gave our verdict and the nine of us parted ways. The Juror and I did not depart especially different from anyone else. But at least I knew I now had his Facebook friendship, and a reason to contact him. And later that very night, guess who I got a message from!

THE JUROR!

He sent me an article about the case, which I was less than thrilled about. But I told him I, too, had looked it up and felt I wouldn't forget it anytime soon. So I tried as long as I could to wait (45 minutes) and replied with what I thought a witty response. I had been watching Entourage (which we also bonded over) and a character said something often mentioned during the trial. Then I asked him (to keep conversation flowing) if we'd ever be able to get away. That was late last night. But judging by his 97 friends, he's not much of a Facebooker. So we'll see if I hear from him. He still has to fix my iPod after all. I wonder if they'd let us back into the courtroom for some naughty activity. Hm...

The Dad

As I have mentioned, my cousin Frieda has a much-older man friend, and we have lately been hanging out with him and his fellow men-friends. I call them such since they are both ten-plus years older than Frieda and me.

One of them is an established bachelor. The other is a divorced father of three.

Obviously, The Dad is the one who decided to get my number from Frieda. And who asked me out via text. Multiple times. While The Dad is a nice guy, successful in his career, and well...pretty hot, I just can't get past the whole idea of him being a dad. Am I horrible? I mean, one date with him does not mean I'll be expected to play Step Mom. But the whole idea just freaks me out. One harmless date could turn into a lot, and I wouldn't want to lead the Dad on. Especially since I'll be seeing him regularly with Frieda and her other man-friend.

Baggage is obviously something everyone has. A crazy ex, a broken heart, whatever. But kids? I think I'm a little too young to have to even think about dating someone who has them!

The Freak Out

I had a really rough week last week. I won't reveal details, but I was uncharacteristically stressed out and it showed.

Before my week from hell, things were going great. I finally had a grip on my life in general and thought things with a certain guy were moving in the right direction (even if it had barely been a week since we started talking). He called and said the right things and even seemed to be okay with me not sleeping with him right away.

Except I had a freak out and I told him about one (of more than one) issue I was having and why I was stressed. He seemed fine and normal but never called back that night. Concerned, I texted him the next day and apologized for my wacky behavior. He said he was worried about me and that was it. Never to be heard from again.

A guy friend of mine from school informed me never to freak out. That would obviously raise a red flag that I'm totally psycho. My girlfriends reassured me that I was justified in my freakout, but I still can't help to think that's why he disappeared. It's unfortunate that he experienced me flip, since it was probably the only time I'll do so all year. Or at least to this extent. But I guess I expected too much to think my freak out was justified. Am I just another crazy girl?

The Rebounder

Lord knows I'm not one for relationships. But a few weeks ago I started talking to a guy who recently got out of a very serious relationship. Let's just say a lot of plans had to be canceled when they broke up and I'm sure their families lost a deposit or two. I can't even wrap my head around being in such a committed relationship.

I know minor details about their breakup, but from what I understand from secondary sources, he is still having a pretty tough time with the whole situation. While out at the bar on Sunday, he told me he got pretty upset while talking to one of our mutual friends and wanted to tell me before she did. I asked if it was the ex and he told me yes, and I basically told him I didn't want to know. He then looked at me sincerely upset, and alluded to how many years they went out. I frankly would rather be spared any further information.

But he has tapered off on calling, and I'm sure it could be for a number of reasons. Though I probably somehow screwed up (like always) I think the guy on the rebound is like a whole new species. After being tied down for so long, he probably wants to explore every option (and every p****) that's willing. Do I want to be one of many? Not so much. But I can't say I blame him. I just have to remember that although we may have some very real chemistry, he probably still wants to call up the Ex. He was apparently CRYING over the Ex. Therefore he's obviously not ready to move on, even to someone so fabulous and emotionally distant as myself. But the Rebounder has emotions I have yet to witness from my usual one-night stands. There are genuine feelings he has to get over. Someone he was with most everyday is now out of his life, except maybe (I assume) for the occasional phone call or e-mail. And even if he is trying his best to move on and get all the ass he can, I can't help but remember the framed photo of him and the Ex STILL on a shelf above his bed. I think I'm gonna have to give him some space to recover.

The Fellow Commuter

So it finally happened.

A fellow commuter hit on me on the train. It's about damn time!

I took my regular 7:44 this morning, and saw a guy (around my age) who I see most every day. Like me, he looks like he could be fun and normal but just wants to get to work. He is not particularly attractive but he isn't bad either.

Today he must have felt especially friendly. Perhaps it was the nice weather. Or that he displayed his strength and masculinity by holding the train door for me. Either way, after our 55 minute commute, he waited in his seat for me to come out of mine. Then he said hello.

No big deal, right? So we began the conversation and he asked where I worked and where I lived. I found out his name is Danny and he works at UBS. How exciting. He also commented that we're the only people our age who seem to make the treacherous commute. Hm. Since this is the case, perhaps next time I see him (this afternoon?) I should suggest we commiserate over a cocktail.