Blame it on the...

The tennis game was exhausting.

Caprice, the 34-year-old who may become a regular hitting buddy, ran circles around me for nearly two hours, with a score of 6-1, 6-4. It didn't matter. After the first reply to my Craigslist ad, just getting out on the court was a blessing.

So I jumped in the car after the match, called my boy Greg back and remembered Mickey D's is offering any size drink for a dollar.

Great!

The plan was simple: Pull through, get sweet tea, keep it moving.

By the time I pulled on my street, it was gone. It. Was. That. Good. And I wanted more.

So I hatched another plan.

I kept driving past my house, through to the other end of the road, near a gas station. I pulled in a block later.

It was another McDonald's.

This time, I ordered a sandwich. When I got to the window, I asked the woman for a refill on my drink.

She stared back.

"I. Want. A. Refill." I said, like the Mexican woman couldn't speak English. I felt bad, but PC goes out the window when the sweet tea is callin!

"Let me ask my manager," she said. By now, Greg couldn't stop laughing at me.

The manager told me to come inside to get a refill. When I got inside, they looked dumbfounded.

Like I wasn't gonna come in for some free stuff? Psssh.

So I drove home, Greg still laughing at me, determined to drink slower the second time around...

Not the handout I was looking for.

Since I stopped playing tennis in the fall, I've been looking for someone to fill the void I knew I'd have when the tennis buddy and I parted ways. So I put out feelers.

I posted a note on Craigslist.org about looking for a tennis partner. The note was short, to the point and included just enough vague information so I could get someone to respond.

What I got was more than I bargained for.

"I've got a two-week load. Wanna take it?" the e-mail said.

When I scrolled down, there was a pic of a pasty white penis, erect and being held by a pasty white hand.

Seriously not the response I was hoping for...

I feel... beautiful?

The compliment came from the most unsuspecting place: A man, sitting on a shelf on the balcony outside a club in DC Saturday night, interrupted a conversation he was having with me, Fuzzy and my "cunty" friend.

"You have some of the most beautiful eyes."

He'd already gotten my attention by being overly attentive when I spoke. It was just, well, you know.

Weird.

I feel weird getting compliments from people, period. Moreso this time because it was from a guy. A guy sitting in the corner on the balcony at the club, getting high no less. But I took it, mostly because I've had a few less-than-stellar events recently that could've shaken my confidence more had I not been numbed by the whole unemployed thing.

(1) I was called a "fat fuck." This was after I'd mentioned going to the gym during a phone conversation. "How long have you been doing that?" "I've been going every other day." "I can't tell." Yeah, unemployment =depression, and I'd gained 20 pounds since the beginning of March (I've already dropped five of those since last week tho).

(2) This "face looks like HSB and the attitude isn't much better" dude I know from high school hit me up on Facebook. When I got around to approving his request for "friendship," I found out he was married with a fourth kid on the way. I'm still single.

(3) I had been talking to someone for a few weeks. The conversations always went well, and lasted longer than they should've. It all stopped suddenly after my trip to Jersey. Yeah, I feel like I dodged a bullet, but it was still weird to be told one thing, but shown another.

The conversation at the club was about... I can't even remember. I just remember the dude in the, sneaking one of my friends (nah, I won't say) a hit on his "cigarette," complimenting me, putting his number into my phone as we disbursed from the rooftop and smiling the whole way back to the hotel. While I wasn't interested (for more than one reason), it did more for me than I ever thought it would.

What say you? What makes you feel special? Who does it for you? Can you do it for yourself?

Keep pushing... or say die?

I've been a working journalist since three days after college graduation. I've wanted this since I was 9 years old.

But since I became unemployed, it's been hard to focus on the next step in the process. I told myself when I got my last job that I'd go from there into an editing gig. Little did I know it'd last about a year less than it should have. Now I need another job as a reporter.

Trouble is, there's about 10 of those open across the country right now.

I'm giving myself about three months to freelance and figure out if I could even see myself applying for something else. Hopefully unemployment will kick in and I won't have to worry about dipping into savings (though it's a good thing to have... lol).

There's a bunch of PR jobs and jobs playing spokesman for different agencies, but it'd feel too weird to not be the one writing about the happenings.

Friday, I spoke with a recruiter from one of my old jobs about the state of our industry and he told me I should think about becoming a professor. There's probably a class of beginning journalists who need me to teach them the basics, he said.

It made sense, especially since that's where I'd like to be one day.

Didn't know my goal for 40 would come at 27...


What say you? What happens when a dream looks to be deferred? Did you soon forget about it? Did you get back to it as soon as you could?