Every year it happens. I have a birthday. Since I was a child the occasion had always been celebrated in the same grand-style: sunshine, swimming, friends, strawberries, cake, surprises and of course presents. And I love presents. Luckily I loved everything I got, well almost.
My IT guy surprised me that day. First, by showing up and staying at my entire birthday. Second, by presenting me with a little purple wrapped box. Imagine my surprise (and my facial expression) when I opened the box to find a pair of high waisted white Bermuda shorts.
One after another my girlfriends made their comments on the shorts and their transferrable meaning on our relationship:
Maria: Yikes! It's over. Two words: "Return Policy."
Carrie: I'm just not sure why the shorts! I mean it's so not you. He obviously doesn't know you.
Sandy: Maybe we could get some get some glitter gel and jazz them up a bit.
Marianne: I don't like this gift and I don't like him.
Diana: You're going to think about this gift for the rest of your life, it's going to be legendary.
Martha: Oh, that's not good.
...but my most optimistic friend, Anna pushed me into the washroom, "try them on," she coaxed, "you might be surprised."
I stepped out of the washroom dawning the shorts and frown. "I guess not," she said.
I think it's over between me and my IT guy and it's not the gift. I think overall, when it comes to being a leading man in my life, he just comes up short.
Thursday
A kiss isn't a kiss without moisture
With my number one galavanting his handsome self in Spain, I decide it's time to step up my game with my number two (or as we all know him, my I.T. guy). But attempts at his possible seduction have been spoiled too many times. First by a boy's trip to the races for the weekend; Second with a near brush with appendicitis. And now here we are following a lovely date no closer to the initial goal I designed when I finally released my beloved to the other side of the Atlantic: "Jump him."
Weeks and a barrage, wait, make that an endless barrage of pointless text messages later we finally go out. Irritated, I am. At first that cute little beeping on my new cellphone that indicated the arrival of mail gave me glee. Now I dread the sound because I know I am expected to send another meaningless and trite response to the meaningless and ill-ly abbrev-ed message I received. (Also, let the record show that this date only truly happened because typing these messages impaired my driving and my patience to such an extent that I actually caved and called to iron out the details).
And the thing about his voice is, I love it. I really do. Once I called him and he told me "take your time, whenever your ready" in his reassuring tone I was ready and anticipating getting on with my plan ("jump him"). So he greets me with a hug, opens my door and does all the chivalrous things I had come to expect from him. And I can't say that anything about the night was really displeasing. We talked, we laughed, we look good together (I think) and I tried in my passive way to move forward without being well, forward.
Holding his hand, touching his leg, leaning in, sitting almost next to him. I even read his palm for Christ's sake! What more can one girl muster? Okay, in retrospect I could've maybe done more but to do so might not have been, well me.
All night I was dreading it, and when I finally ended up at the bottom of the steps of my front door I thought. This is it. Now or never. I tried to prolong the moment as long as I could. Bat those eyelashes, lean in for it, tell him I'm warmer in his arms. Yes, I did go there. And still those pecks on the lips!!!!! Am I that old fashioned to I think a kiss, a real kiss, requires moisture?
Well let the record be shown that it did not happen. My goal wasn't accomplished. I set out ambitiously and I've failed. I'm bored and I'm about to tap out. After all, my knight in shining whatever will be home in the blink of my mascara enhanced eyes.
Weeks and a barrage, wait, make that an endless barrage of pointless text messages later we finally go out. Irritated, I am. At first that cute little beeping on my new cellphone that indicated the arrival of mail gave me glee. Now I dread the sound because I know I am expected to send another meaningless and trite response to the meaningless and ill-ly abbrev-ed message I received. (Also, let the record show that this date only truly happened because typing these messages impaired my driving and my patience to such an extent that I actually caved and called to iron out the details).
And the thing about his voice is, I love it. I really do. Once I called him and he told me "take your time, whenever your ready" in his reassuring tone I was ready and anticipating getting on with my plan ("jump him"). So he greets me with a hug, opens my door and does all the chivalrous things I had come to expect from him. And I can't say that anything about the night was really displeasing. We talked, we laughed, we look good together (I think) and I tried in my passive way to move forward without being well, forward.
Holding his hand, touching his leg, leaning in, sitting almost next to him. I even read his palm for Christ's sake! What more can one girl muster? Okay, in retrospect I could've maybe done more but to do so might not have been, well me.
All night I was dreading it, and when I finally ended up at the bottom of the steps of my front door I thought. This is it. Now or never. I tried to prolong the moment as long as I could. Bat those eyelashes, lean in for it, tell him I'm warmer in his arms. Yes, I did go there. And still those pecks on the lips!!!!! Am I that old fashioned to I think a kiss, a real kiss, requires moisture?
Well let the record be shown that it did not happen. My goal wasn't accomplished. I set out ambitiously and I've failed. I'm bored and I'm about to tap out. After all, my knight in shining whatever will be home in the blink of my mascara enhanced eyes.
Monday
Good riddance
I'm pissed or at least I was. Now all my problemas are flying in an airplane. "See ya", I want to say but our goodbye was much more complicated then that.
It began with a breezy MSN conversation gone wrong. "I hope I get to see you before you leave," I said. "Depends on our schedules" is the response I get that leaves a stingy lump in my chest. WTF???
For all the energy, concern, assistance I've devoted to him these past few weeks and that's the best I get?
But it wasn't. He drops into work two days before he leaves to say "I wanted to see you and I didn't know if I'd get another chance, I'll call you tomorrow." The girls ask why the boy they detest is kissing my ass.
Sunday comes without a phone call. Until 10.30 p.m. and arranging him to see him is more painful than removing gum from your hair, sans scissors. I arrive. In what seems like an instant he goes from cold and distant to warm and passionately intimate. But isn't that our way?
Tucked within a grasp that won't let go he says "I might miss you." I muster the strength to respond with, "I know you will" - for the thirty times I got up to leave him since I arrived, this time his lips, not his eyes asked me to stay. I concede but only for another five minutes or so.
As we finally move to part he says he'll e-mail. Whether he does or not I'm not sure I'll care too much although it would be a nice surprise. Honestly I think I'm more relieved than anything. At work today I was almost positively giddy over it.
No more problemas for at least two weeks. Yippie!
It began with a breezy MSN conversation gone wrong. "I hope I get to see you before you leave," I said. "Depends on our schedules" is the response I get that leaves a stingy lump in my chest. WTF???
For all the energy, concern, assistance I've devoted to him these past few weeks and that's the best I get?
But it wasn't. He drops into work two days before he leaves to say "I wanted to see you and I didn't know if I'd get another chance, I'll call you tomorrow." The girls ask why the boy they detest is kissing my ass.
Sunday comes without a phone call. Until 10.30 p.m. and arranging him to see him is more painful than removing gum from your hair, sans scissors. I arrive. In what seems like an instant he goes from cold and distant to warm and passionately intimate. But isn't that our way?
Tucked within a grasp that won't let go he says "I might miss you." I muster the strength to respond with, "I know you will" - for the thirty times I got up to leave him since I arrived, this time his lips, not his eyes asked me to stay. I concede but only for another five minutes or so.
As we finally move to part he says he'll e-mail. Whether he does or not I'm not sure I'll care too much although it would be a nice surprise. Honestly I think I'm more relieved than anything. At work today I was almost positively giddy over it.
No more problemas for at least two weeks. Yippie!
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