commitment to the lack thereof

We were eating breakfast at Tartine when I got a call from the Berkeley grad student freemason who had been out of town for a few weeks. Actually calling me, which is an occurance so rare I can count the times on one hand. My roommate says he's into me and terrified because he recently got out of a 7-year relationship. He took the bus in for the North Beach festival, Malaysian food, a walk and burritos. The problem with him is we'll be having a great time, and then he feels awkward and overcompensates by telling me in great detail about some aspect of upper-class, east coast prep school racquet club esoterica to alienate me and everyone else. It's hard to get him to have a good time or have an interesting conversation with him without the conversation eventually steering to this unless he's had something to drink, which is unfortunate because I'm honestly just not interested in Ivy League, aristocratic, letter-of-introduction private-club obscurantism. I guess I'll just have to tell him, but the way things have been going, I probably won't hear from him until he comes back from the next conference or two, in a few weeks.
In the meantime, I got a message from the architect that day (a week and a day after our date), and so far have just played phone tag. My innate serial monogamy made me feel vaguely slutty thinking about when I would call him while hanging out with another guy, but all I can conclude is that I can't possibly feel bad, since none of these guys actually want to be even remotely committed to me. It's still going to take some training on my part to be so aloof.
I did tell Shonelle I'd be coming solo to her wedding. What a commitment to being single. Hope it won't be too awkward since I won't know anyone there except the bride and groom.

When we came back to my place last night my roommate said, "Want to go to a party in a mansion?"Apparently her friend from school was housesitting for a professor in the Berkeley hills and obtained permission to have a rager. Impossible to turn down an offer like that, I threw some Sake and some sparkling red wine into my bag and we hopped on Civic Center BART. The party was small and fun, the house was big and stunning with an incredible view. I spent the night in the east bay, and getting back by slow Sunday BART schedule ate up a big chunk of today.

To take advantage of the last bit of weekend and sun, I went with my other roommate on an epic bike ride down the Embarcadero over to Fort Mason Center. Totally made my day.
Then, the four of us housemates had laundry night at Brainwash, where I discovered that Sunday night is unofficial semiattractive single man laundry night. My roommate and I were staring at a devastatingly attractive guy with a giant cast on his hand. I was reading Don DeLillo's Underworld, still having trouble getting through the 60-page baseball game at the beginning. After a little while, the four of us are sitting around while he is loading the machine by the table where we are sitting, and he asks me what I'm reading. I tell him a bit about it, and then ask him how he hurt his hand. I tried to talk to him about my recently broken elbow, and bike riding, but the conversation never took off. After I reloaded the dryer, he tried talking to me again.
"Yeah, I tried reading this other book by him but I coudn't get into it. White Noise, I think," he said.
"You didn't like White Noise? It was great, just lost speed at the end."
"No, I started reading it, and the beginning was funny, but then I wasn't into it. Reminded me of people I know." (?)
"Oh..."
My roommates are all watching him, it's all slightly awkward.
"I read books I get at garage sales. I've found a few good ones."
"."
"."
"Example?"
He gives me a few, including Hesse's Steppenwolf, and then there's nothing to say again.
Awkward.
Finally, he's leaving, and I say it's nice to meet him, he says so too and says Ciao.
"That was weird," I say to my roommate.
"Was he hitting on you?"
"Yeah, I guess so. But there was nothing to say, we just didn't click."
"He was hot. I mean hot!" she says, while shaking her wrist. I nod emphatically, and as we do this, she sees him looking in from outside the window, seeing her make this gesture, clearly about him, and me nodding away. He most likely could tell we were talking about him, which was funny.