A Social Life?

not an actual photo of "Rafael" because I'm not a complete fool, but a reasonable likeness

Alexis has a date for Friday night!!! (I ordinarily loathe extra exclamation points, but this latest development merits them.) I'm going out for dinner with one of my classmates. He just turned twenty-three, which makes him barely three years older than I. That pretty much is as close as they get in age to me in my med school cohort  (not counting my brother Matthew, who is less than a minute younger than I, so is on record the same age as I even though he is listed on his extended birth certificate as the second-born twin).

The relative closeness in age is assuming I don't count three total dorks in the cohort  who still behave as though they're in middle school. This is not hyperbole.  These hollow-skulled "peers" of mine actually giggled the first time the class was shown a nude body of a corpse. I didn't really perceive the giggles as those of the nervous sort, either, It seemed that the fools genuinely found view of a nude 88-year-old female corpse to be a source of mirth. It is my hope,  for the common good, that these three morons do not survive the first year, much less the entire procress of medical school. I think it would be better if these  idiots, all of whom must have been legacies to have gained admission in the first place,  are soon invited to leave and not to return. It's not that I wish anyone ill will. (Actually there are a couple of people in the class upon whom I sort of wish ill will, though not these three.) It's just that I feel that the world would be a safer place if these one-tenth (or less) wits were never to gain possession of licenses to practice medicine. I'm not even totally comfortable with the idea that they have licenses to operate motor vehicles. Malpractice suits can only go so far in terms of compensation for loss of life and limb.

Anyway, the guy with whom I'm going out is from the San Joaquin Valley. (We will not hold that against him.) His fake name (I'm not giving out his real name in the unlikely even that he might google himself and get extremely lucky) is "Rafael."  His father is an MD specializing in family practice. His mom is a respiratory therapist. He's in my brother's study group, which usually meets at our condo, and with whom I also study sometimes. "Rafael" is sharp. His test scores aren't quite as high as mine, but I'm not sure he puts in quite the study time that I do. That's not to say he's lazy; he seems to take his studies seriously. I just can't expect everyone to be as obsessive as I am.

I do not need Matthew's approval or consent consent to date anyone. If the prison system would go along with it, I could have a soiree  with Charlie Manson if I so desired, and Matthew would have no say whatsoever  in the matter,  not that that would ever happen,. For the record, this date is happening with Matthew's approval. It will be interesting to see how it goes down if I ever choose to date a guy of whom Matthew does not approve. In our lifetimes, Matthew has dated more girls of whom I did not approve  than I can count on the fingers of  both my  hands. (Thank God, his taste in women has recently improved.) My way of handling my disapproval of Matthew's previous dates as long as they did not directly affect me was to express my opinion and then to leave well enough alone.

There was that prom date our junior year in which a bimbo asked Matthew out because she wanted to get him drunk and be impregnated by him because she thought her looks and his brains would make a superior baby. ( You may remember my previously shared evidence of this girl's stupidity. she was fired from a bank teller job for giving out free traveler's checks. The account holder hadna premium account that allowed for free traveler's checques. What you, I, and everyone with an IQ in the positive values knows is that this means that the account holder pays the face value of the  traveler's checques but that any incidental fees associated with acquiring travelers checques are waived. Bimbo did not understand this conceopt. she thought free travelers' checques meant free travelers' checques, and the bank account holder she served that day walked out of the bank with ten thousand dollars' worth of travelers' checques without forking over a cent. I'm not certain how the discrepancy was resloved except that it was Bimbo's very last day of employment at the bank. Back to the matter at hand,  I suppose the concept of intelligence is relative, but this was Matthew of whom we are speaking -- the boy who less than two years ago thought I was lying to him when I told him pygmies were real; he thought they were a Disney creation, more or less like Oompah Loompahs. I'm not sure Einstein's genes would have been sufficient to negate Bimbo's stupidity, but Matthew's ? In what universe could Matthew and this young woman [she was 18 and he was 15, so in California it would have been statuatory rape along with everything else] have produced a marginally intelligent child? My guess is that the baby would have been good-looking, but that's as far as my predictions go. 
The whole issue was that in order to prevent this pregnancy from happening, my parents expected my date and me to double-date with Matthew and  Bimbo to the prom in order to serve as his chaperones and in order to prevent my parents from becoming grandparents to a cretin nine months later.  How lame can a situation get? One does not double-date with one's twin to a prom.. It just isn't done (sort of like how you don't tug on Superman's cape or spit into the wind) except perhaps in parts of the Ozarks and Appalachia, where, instead of double-dating with one's twin, one actually dates one's twin. For the record, the double-date didn't happen because shortly before the prom was to happen, I suffered a severe compound tibia-fibula fracture, in addition to a clavicle fracture, just in the nick of time to prevent me from the indiginity of being seen at a school event with my brother. My dad paid my best friend and her date to be Matthew's chaperones.  I can't speak for any other couples and their sexual escapades, but none of Matthew's sperm got close enough to Bimbo's eggs to telepathetically communicate any intentions, much less to conjoin and conceive a child.

Anyway, I hope that by now Matthew comprehends that he is powerless to prevent me from dating whomever I choose to date. i would, however, listen to anything he had to say about a prospective date of mine, and if his reasons for the date being a bad idea seemed sound, i would seriously consider what he had to say. In this case, however, he has no issue with "Rafael."

I like Rafael. I'm not madly in love with him, and I seriously doubt he's totally gaga over me, either. Dating at our age is healthy, though, and it is about time I had a date. I believe I am the very last girl in my cohort to have been asked on a date. The out-of-town date with Jared didn't count. Out-of-town dates when no one else in the cohort knows the person do not count. I could be making Jared up for all anyone knows.

Except for last Friday night, when I was back home visiting my new Godson, this will be the first Friday night in nearly three months that I haven't spent studying. I suspect my grades can take the hit with no major negative impact.

Pinterst wouldn't take the first print of "Rafael's" picture. I'll see if it will take this one. Otherwise, no Pinterest on this post..