quality over quantity?

I've been meeting a lot of men lately. Really, like everywhere I go, I'm meeting men and talking to men and flirting with men and getting asked out by men. It's been great for my confidence level. I even met a man at the community bike shop yesterday when I stopped by to have someone help me fix a wobbly wheel. I ended up staying there through two torrential downpours, multiple cups of coffee, and several repairs. Just talking to him and letting him help me fix my bike. Slash he pretty much fixed it because it turns out I'm not as savvy as I though. Afterward, I invited him to my house for a beer and he, surprisingly enough, took me up on the offer. But then things got weird. Because said man, we'll call him Bike Doctor, overstayed his welcome and then proceeded to barrage me with several phone calls and drunken voice messages for the remainder of the evening. Now I wish he didn't know my phone number, much less where I live. 

Which leads me to wonder. Are we all just scraping ourselves together enough to hide the crazy for a minimal period of time until the other person is reasonably invested? I don't personally think I do this, but maybe I do. Maybe I put out a facade to hook a person and then upon further review I'm a total whack-job.  Shit. What if I'm that person that people wish didn't know where they live? No. I'm reasonably sure I'm not. 

I mean, come the fuck on though. I've had enough witty banter to fill a season of Gilmore Girls this summer. Real life doesn't have NEARLY as much clever banter, and yet here I am getting served puns and returning with perfectly-inflected come-backs. And as nice as it is, I'm no closer to finding a man who is actually quality. Apparently banter doesn't equal quality. As much as I love banter. Part of it, I'm sure, is because I'm not really looking for a man. However, it would be nice to know that if I was, some quality ones would be out there. And yeah, The Professor was quality in many ways, but he was also self-absorbed and aloof. So maybe those just aren't qualities for me. 

I don't really know where this is going. Honestly, school started back up this week, and as excited as I am to get started again, I've got a pretty bad attitude about summer being over. But I guess better it be over before it has a chance to go sour. Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length, right? 

I mean, it's still hot as the dickens and the days are still long, but real life has managed to wrap her sticky fingers around my ankles and drag me back into reality's arms. Really, it's good. I knew it was coming. I'm back to blow drying my hair every day and actually taking care with my outfits instead of just doing a sniff check/shrug combo with whatever is closest to me on the floor. Part of me is grateful to rinse off the crusty layer of summer carelessness and put my professional adult layer back on. 

Did I mention that I am the teaching assistant for my department this year?

Yeah. 

But really, this post is about quality over quantity. Summer was a time of quantity for meeting men. But now I'm busy and harried and no longer going to be satisfied with quantity. I'm gearing up for a dry spell. Quality, here I come. Maybe?

goodbye summer, goodbye professor. how i hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.