Monday, June 29, 2009
Posted while on the road, mobile-blog FTW.
I love that my readers are cogent enough to send me emails reminding me that I should call the waitress I met not that long ago. Thanks to those of you who emailed me.
On my way to meet my gay friend Miguel and his sister Jandra (who, by the way, is the TENTH Jandra I've ever met), I decided to give her a jingle from the car.
I pull up her listing in my phone, listed as "Maggie, Server, Call!" and let it ring a few times. I don't leave voice mails if I am calling someone to ask them out. I figure I'll let it get to 4 and then just hang up when the call is answered.
"Sane." Whoa, how'd you know it was me? "I learned we have a common friend. And she said you'd call on day 7." FUCK. "Are you nervous that she'll tell me something you don't want me to hear about?" No, you should actually listen to every word she has to say about me.
"What?" I mean it. "Aren't you supposed to say DON'T listen to her?" If I did, you'd pay more attention to her. "I understand your logic. But now that I know you're playing mind games, doesn't it mean I will still?" No, that's why they're mind games.
She laughs, loudly. Then the phone is muffled while she talks to someone else in the room. "Sorry, roommate. OK, I was expecting you to call. Now you're going to ask me out, right?" I'm not sure I even have to answer that, you know what I'll say next. "Two choice for this week?" Right. I laugh. Pick one. "I already did. Tomorrow night, or is that too early?" I laugh again. This is not good. Tuesday is fine.
"Let's see, did you pick Persian and Italian food options?" Close, Indian and Thai. "Oh, not too exciting, are we?" We've yet to see. 8pm? "I can do that. If you still want to go out. Now that I know everything." No one knows everything, and the more people know, the more they actually don't know. "She said you were mysterious." Not mysterious, I'm an open book. It's the closed book who seem not so interesting. "Ok, then it's a date." Is it? Or is it just two friends gossiping about a mutual third?
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sane." Mmmhmmm. If only I knew where to pick you up. "Shit! I live in Lakeview." Figured as much. "What does THAT mean?" I gotta go. I hang up.
So there you have it, fine readers. The Man that they call Sane has a date, of sorts.
Of course, we know it can go nowhere. She knows someone I've met recently, and the word is out. That means she's going to try to be competitive with our mutual friend and see where she can get me. That actually reduces my desire to jump on her and pound her until she melts through the mattress. Sad, too. But it's a date, and I like dates, and I'd like to go on more dates, so I'm going to follow through.
Who wants to bet that we DON'T hit it off, and that neither of us jumps the other one? I bet you a night of cooking, handmade ice cream and casual sex that we don't.