I Swear. . .

. . . I wasn't doing it to play games or be passive-aggressive. Friday night, I'd called him because I hadn't heard from him since Sunday, at which time he'd talked about doing something Saturday. When we talked Friday, he told me he hadn't called yet because he hadn't come up with an idea. So he'd call the next day about doing something together.

On Saturday, it gets to be 4 p.m. or so, and I'm trying not to be dejected or ticked off--so I'm going to distract myself by doing my #1 indulgence for school break (from my previous Friday Five post). I took care of a few things, changed out of my chore clothes--earlier I'd cleaned out my mom's station wagon of what had been left to transport from the old apartment, and emptied a few more containers--and put on a little makeup so I don't look tired. I had my purse in my hand and was going for my coat when my cell rang.

Him: What's going on?
Me: Oh, I was just about to go run a couple of errands. [Hit up the ATM for cash and then head to the video store near work b/c it's nicer than the one by my new place. That's two.]
Him: What kind of errands?
Me: Well. . . I was thinking about renting a movie. I like to do that when I'm off from school. [I don't lie--I don't do it well, and I can't live with myself if I do.]
Him: Did you think about what we were going to do tonight?
Me: Oh, was I supposed to do that? [Honestly, he has said this before, and I still can't tell if he's joking or if I really had misunderstood something he'd said during our previous call.]
Him: Tell you what. How about I come pick you up and we'll go rent something?
Me: *ulp* Do you mind that I haven't completely unpacked yet and things are a little disorganized?
Him: As long as there's a sofa and a TV, and nothing's blocking the TV, everything's good.

And it was.

(How sad is it that I'm not used to this?)

(Edited to add--how could I have forgotten this? Maybe it's that trauma blocking thing.)
You know what the weird thing is? About an hour before his call, one of the friends I'd had dinner with on Friday called me. He's the kind of person that through his work and involvement with church, runs into no fewer than six people he knows, every time he's out. Dinner was in a bar that was slightly loud so I didn't catch all the names of the people to whom he introduced his fiancee and me.

Friend: Hey, remember that guy "Dan" from last night?
Me: Dan? Uh, which one was he? [Please don't let this be going where I think it is.]
Friend: Kinda short, blond hair, dumpy [I swear he said dumpy but he talks fast and we're both on cells so I could be wrong], goatee. Said his brother and sister had moved to New England.
Me: (silent, drawing blank)
Friend: He said his dad died last week.
Me: Oh, yeah! [And oh, Lord, please don't let this be going where I think it is.]
Friend: Yeah, so he called me at work today and was asking about you. Wanted to know if you were seeing anybody. And I said well there kind of was this guy but I wasn't really sure, but I said I'd ask you if I could give him your number.
Me: Uhhhhh. . . Well, I'm not really sure. Seems a little too soon after his dad died. [I can hear the story now: "Well, I'd just finished burying my father, and this beautiful woman appeared at the bar offering the sweetest condolences from her plush lips." No. No. NO. And I want to see where things go with this other guy. But I haven't gotten a phone call about what we're doing tonight. . .] Can I think about it and get back to you?
Friend: Oh, sure, I understand, I'll just put it in the back of my mind and tack his number up here on the bulletin board.
Me: O.K., well, thanks.

He means well. He's a childhood friend with whom I'd reconnected at a mutual friend's funeral about a year ago. He proposed to his sweetheart shortly after our reconnection--she's wonderful, and he's happy. He feels older-brotherly towards me and wants to fix me up. But honestly, the only words I said to "Dan" were "Hi," "I'm sorry for your loss," and "Take care." Because he looked bereft and messed up. And in my experience, the wrong kind of guys attach to me for just saying those words. I didn't twirl my hair or bat my eyelashes or in any way act the least bit interested. I don't flirt with any Y-chromosomed individual who comes my way. But two seconds of sympathy and the, um, "lost puppy" ones are crushing on me. This has been happening to me since college, and I even made the mistake of agreeing to go out with one of them, who would become my first adult LTR and horrible breakup.

I'm so glad I decided to go to the video store.


Amy Giglio said…
What you didn't want to take a chance on a guy your friend describes as "short, blond and dumpy?" Throwing in "Needy?" He sounds like a catch!! Probably a very nice guy, but with WAY too much baggage. Good call, Kate!

And apropos of nothing, the word verification on a comment below was "unupoop." This made me chuckle. Probably because I have two small sons. Poop is just funny.
Amy Giglio said…
I am so horrified I typed that. I'm leaving it up though. :)
Kate P said…
No, that's hilarious--the kids' radio program on the local public radio station recently played a song called--I'm not kidding about this--"Poop Goes in the Potty." It's eerily hypnotic.

Besides, I have three nephews now. . . it's gonna be all potty humor, all the time, pretty soon.

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