Get off my phone…

I do not answer my cell for numbers that I do not recognize or aren’t programmed into it. I will occasionally answer a number that looks vaguely familiar, like a zip code I used to stay in or a neighborhood where relatives live. This is what happened yesterday evening when I answered my cell. It vibrated and I looked at the exchange and thought hmmm who is that? So I answered.

“Hello!” The voice at the other end replied.

“Hi.” I paused to give the caller an opportunity to provide a name or reason for calling.

“Is this Ursala?” I hate when people do this, it means either they have no business calling or they are trying to figure out the best approach to ask you for something.

“Yes it is.” I am now concerned because I have not been able to place the voice and have no idea who I am talking to.

“Good, how are you?”

“I’m fine, my I ask whose speaking?”

“Yes, this is M____ and I just found your name and number on my kitchen table. I’m wondering who you are and how I know you.”

“Huh? What’s that?” I was thinking why did I answer and who is this playing on my phone!?!

“I have a handwritten name and number on a piece of paper and since it’s on my kitchen table it must be significant because I keep important things here. It just ended up under some more important things that came up and I’m cleaning off the table.”

“Oh really, well what is your name?” Why I asked this question is beyond me, maybe I was bored, maybe I wanted to help solve the mystery, but I didn’t hang up I stayed on the call.

“M____”

“That name doesn’t ring a bell. I’m terrible with names. However you say you have a handwritten name and number? Hmmm.” What is ridiculous is that I was sitting there trying to place his name in my mental rolodex, but I couldn’t. I was thinking his story was weird but I didn’t get off the phone. I am slightly intrigued by the randomness of his call and approach.

“Well what is it written on?”

“A blank piece of paper.”

“Well I can’t place your name, what do you look like?” His response was the basic stats of just about every average male in my city. It certainly was not going to help me solve the mystery. So I then asked “So what do you do?”

His next response is not helpful either he responds that he is in the same field that I’m in.

I decide to dig deeper, I’m a detective now. I figure the stack is probably in some sort of date order since I got buried so I ask “Is the stack in some sort of order, when do you think you met me?”

“I think sometime last year around the end of the summer.” Aaha! I knew exactly who I was talking to. Plus I knew he didn’t think it he knew exactly when he met me and that’s why he called me. A little background. He was a quite striking gentlemen who I had about a two hour long conversation with outside of one of my favorite brunch spots. He caught my attention and then reeled me in with this harmonic convergence theory. It was something about significant moments happening and people meeting each other. It was some theory that was so random I thought it was really deep. The other point to mention is that I’m a talker. I can pretty much talk with anyone about anything if they are the least bit interesting. He told me that he thought we had some sort of connection. The length or depth of our conversation wasn’t significant to me because I have had long conversations with many strangers. I just thought he was gorgeous, I liked how his mind worked and he was confident.  I’m thinking this man knows exactly who I am. Instead of letting on that I know, I tell him that he is in the same industry I’m in, I travel and so it’s really impossible for me to pinpoint who he is. I then say “Sorry I can’t help you resolve the mystery of the handwritten number, but I hope you have a nice evening and finish cleaning off the table.” Not to be outdone or rushed off the phone he asks me what I look like and my background. I’m just as vague as he is and offer that I’m a native to the city we live in, and my university.

“Aaha!” His words, not mine. “I know exactly who you are. So why did we stop talking you were such a charming young lady?”

“Why thank you.”

“Why don’t we have lunch of dinner this week?”

I rolled my eyes and wanted to shout “Get off my phone!” and slam it down. However, you can’t do that with cells, you can only be civilized and click end. Men are too much. Now the question that I had was why he would go through all that just to ask me out…maybe he really forgot who I was, but I highly doubt it. I would have been much more receptive to “Hey, remember me Mr. Harmonic Convergence? How are you? Well I was thinking about you and our conversation and wondering if we could get together for lunch or dinner sometime, maybe discuss some other topics on our minds, what do you say?” It would have been perfect and I probably would have accepted. Instead I was irritated that he made me miss the last ten minutes of mad men and I had to rewind it.

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