Waiting for his call…continued

I am not happy today. I’m in a mood, maybe not a bad mood, but definitely a mood. I’ll just say I’m moody. He hasn’t called. What is he waiting on?

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It’s Sunday…

and I went to church. That’s what I’ve been up to this summer on Sundays. I go to church. It makes my mother so happy. I generally meet up with her after the service. When she sees me she just beams, and when she sees someone she knows she always introduces me as her daughter followed up with a great big smile. It’s funny her apparent happiness propels me to church now even if I don’t want to go.  

What’s better is that I actually got to church on time. So I wasn’t relegated to the rafters. I am very content to sit in the rafters because there is a lot more space. When you are seated on the bottom (or I should say on the sanctuary floor) they don’t like to leave the customary seat between each person. It’s like the movies when it’s opening night for a block buster they pack you in and there is a body in every seat. When I arrived I was directed to a partially empty aisle and told to go all the way down to the end. I made my way down the aisle and put my bag in the seat next to a very large teenage boy man. He was taken up a good one third of the seat that I sat my bag in. Side caveat: He really was taking up way more space then he needed to. I know that guys need space for the banana and berries, but my word there should be limits to how wide they can sit. They should square up with their shoulders or something there’s got to be a consistent way to bring order to the ridiculousness. Before I could sit down, an usher that I didn’t see quickly came over and asked me to move down a seat and hold my bag in my lap. Dang! He caught me. I picked my bag up and moved over as best I could into two thirds of my seat. I situated my bag in my lap and when I look up who do I see walking down the aisle? None other than Mr. Mean.

This is actually funny because I go to a rather large church, it is considered a mega church by some standards. While my church is large, it’s obviously not large enough to keep me from running into Mr. Mean again. I thought maybe he doesn’t recognize me so I immediately turned back to the pulpit. When he sat down he leaned over and said “I guess the Lord decided that our paths should cross again.” To my chagrin he remembered me. I didn’t respond I kept my eyes straight ahead. Then he said “I guess we are on the same schedule.” Again I didn’t respond. He leaned back over “You look very nice today.” To this I nodded (I know how to take a compliment), but kept my eyes straight ahead. Then he said “I’m still holding a brunch rain check just for you. What are you doing after church?” I leaned over and said “Thank you, but I won’t be using that rain check today or any other day.” I was actually expecting something harsh from him, but he said “I apologize. I hope you aren’t holding what I said before against me.” My response to this was a “ShhhHhhHhhhHhhhhush!” I then turned away from him, crossed my legs and attempted to find a space for my foot between the large leg of the teenage man and the seats in front of us. Despite my unreceptive body language, he was not the least bit concerned because he whispered in my ear “You need to forgive me so we can move on.” I inched closer to the teenage man, which caused him to turn and look at me. I just smiled and nestled myself behind his large arm and our shared portion of my seat.

Mr. Mean continued whispering every once and a while throughout the sermon things such as, “Your hair smells good, your shoes are pretty, I see you got a tan it looks nice, You should let me take you out I promise you’ll have fun.” I kept my back to him the whole service. As soon as the service was over, I leaped across the teenage man to get out of the aisle and bolted towards the exit. I looked back a few times, but didn’t see him. So I was safe.

I met up with my mom at our designated spot. She ran into a co-worker and of course introduced me. My Mother has the gift of loquaciousness so I politely excused myself and went to my car. As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot my mother called me.

“Hey Mama.”

“Are you still in the lobby?”

“No, I just pulled out of the parking lot. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I just met the nicest man.”

“Lucky You. Just what you’ve been praying for.”

“Not for me. For You!”

Then I hear her telling someone to talk to me.

“Hey Ursala!”

“Hello?!?”

“We give you our blessing. I know him. He is very nice, comes from a good family, no kids, never been married and he has a great job.”

Then I hear my mother asking for her cell back

“Mama?”

“Ursala, he’s cute, not like you like them, he’s a pretty boy.”

“You’re funny Mother.”

“I’m just telling you that he is nice looking.”

“Ok.”

“I gave him your number.”

“What?!? Mother!!! No!”

“Yes, he’s a good guy, comes to church, looks nice, comes from a wonderful family. He was so nice he gave us a ride to my car. You should thank me.”

“Wait, you got in a car with a stranger. You can’t do that.”

“He isn’t a stranger, Mrs. B_____ knows his mother. And he goes to church”

“Just because he goes to church doesn’t mean anything. He is a stranger to you. And you gave my number to this strange man. A man you don’t know.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I know you’ll like him.”

My Mother has discerning taste, but she has never given my number to anyone so I’m a little concerned about her experimental match making.

“It doesn’t matter considering you’ve already given him my number. What if he starts calling me all the time?”

“Don’t answer your phone then.” I can tell she is exasperated with me, but I’m equally exasperated with her for giving my number to some strange man just because she met him at church.

“Mother you know I can’t do that I have to answer all calls to my cell right now. Well what did he look like?” I decided to be nice and not work my Mother’s nerves since I know she meant well.

“I told you already he’s a pretty boy.” I can tell I’m already working a nerve because I’m clearly not paying attention since I asked a question she has already answered.

“Could you be a little bit more specific? And what’s his name?”

“His name is L_____.”

“Wait did he have on a brown suit and a purply-lavenderish shirt?”

“Yes, he looked so nice.”

“NoOoooOoooo Mother you didn’t give that man my number.” Oh no my Mother gave my number to Mr. Mean. “Please tell me you are just playing or you meant to say you got his number for me.”

“He has your number and he is going to call you.” Click. My Mother almost never says bye when she is done talking she just hangs up.

I hoped there was some other pretty boy, in a brown suit, with the same name as Mr. Mean at church. I highly doubt it. I can’t believe my mother gave my number to Mr. Mean. The question is did he know it was my Mother or did she just pimp me out?

The Digits by request…

I have zero problems meeting people but I like being introduced to people. This way you have some background information on them and they aren’t total strangers. Plus people generally fix you up with people you wouldn’t come across on your own or probably wouldn’t even give the time of day to under normal circumstances. Since I haven’t successfully found a guy, I am not sure that I am the best judge of character. Recently I have been meeting some real pieces of work. So I am very open to the suggestions of others. When socializing by referral, I think its best to meet people in a group setting that way there is no pressure. If they like what they see and hear both parties can decide to exchange information. This is fair for both parties and if it’s a complete bust no one’s feelings are hurt or bruised.

 

This was the set up a year and a half ago. I went with a friend to an event and briefly met a guy she wanted to introduce me to. What’s funny is that I realized I had met him before. We talked for less than maybe three minutes and then we had to get to our seats. My friend asked if I was interested and minded if he called. I like meeting new people…actually I don’t like the process but I do like new ideas that new people bring. Physically he was so my type and that’s the basis of initial interest so I gave my friend the thumbs up. We had two conversations. First conversation went well. Second conversation was a waste of my time.

 

My thing is that I like guys who are unavailable, either by circumstance or distance. It’s what I attract, what I specialize in. I can meet ten guys in one evening. Nine out of ten of them will be emotionally available and geographically desireable, but I will inevitably pick the one who just got out of a five year relationship and lives in Fiji. Our first conversation was fun and flirty, but no real substance. Second conversation we started talking about important things such as occupation and lifestyle. This conversation established that he lived in a nother city, of course, I almost expected it. Our conversation was speeding along at a steady pace until he metioned that he had kids and multiple baby mamas. WTH? I was in a definite hell no to kids phase, so I distinctly remember shutting down and thinking how I could end the conversation as quickly as possible. Then he did something really strange. He said he was just kidding about the kids and baby mamas. He just wanted to see how I was going to react. WTH! Excuse me? I was even more turned off. Who lies about children? Plus I hate when people purposefully do things to get a reaction. I am not your average lady, so nine out of ten times you will not get the reaction you expected. I will most likely come out of left field on you. Trust me on this. Since I didn’t get his strange sense of humor that was the last conversation we had.

 

We never spoke again until I rolled into a bar to watch a football game with a group of friends. We ended up seated at the same table . We were soon engaged in a lively conversation about why I hadn’t accepted him as a friend on facebook. My explanation we had no friends in common and I didn’t recognize his name or picture. We all had a rolling good time and promised to get together again real soon.

 

I am on my way home and I get a text from my girl. Basically he wants to know if he can get my number.

 

Now I’m thinking wait do I give him my number. That evening he seemed cool but I kept thinking about our previous conversation with the kid nonsense. I thought maybe he has matured, but then I was like wait hold up he has my number….or at least he should. In this age of cell phones, numbers aren’t generally deleted unless you lose a cell. So did he delete me? And if he deleted me should I even give him my number again? However, what most intrigued me was why he didn’t just ask for my number before I left. Maybe the facebook thing caused confusion, but still why didn’t he just ask for my number HIMSELF? Hmmmm

 

So now I don’t know whether I should give him my number. Decisions….decisions…

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.

Texting is the devil…

I have this theory on texting. Texting is the devil. This is my theory. I don’t think it’s an original idea, but I like to think I started calling it the devil first. Why do I call it the devil? Well see the devil comes to deceive and destroy. I think that text messaging deceives the participants into thinking they are having a conversation. Plus everyone has had a badly composed text send the completely wrong message or signal. Or even better the text goes to the WRONG recipient. This is often only remedied by a phone call or face to face conversation to explain the text. Sometimes for me none of this helps, and I end up destroying situations. So texting is the devil.

Before texting there was instant messenger, before that emailing, before that the telephone and before that I guess people were writing letters. Maybe we have come full circle? Writing, the remixed version, it’s condensed with a tight beat. Texting is also a joke because it allows people to have fake conversations. I mean how much can one convey in at max four short sentences? Well maybe a lot, but I don’t seem to find those who are eloquently succinct. I have come across those who think they can have entire conversations with me over text.

I know men LOVE to text. It’s like a sport to them. The fastest texters I know are men. They can run circles around me and I T-9 it. Plus most men don’t really like to talk a lot. They know it is necessary, and will do it, but would rather not. When they are texting they are able to communicate in the form they most desire, short statements.

There is one curious individual who will text me, I will immediately call, and he won’t answer, but will immediately send another text. Strange and perplexing. We do have entertaining and informational texting sessions. I believe that I have learned a lot, but there is no depth to what I know only surface things. I could tell you his favorite movie, but not say his favorite line or scene from the movie. I could tell you what he likes to do on the weekends, but not why he chooses to do those things.

There is another individual who is the worst. I can tell when he has cracked his knuckles and is getting fired up for a long texting session, it often starts with a text that includes more than two probing questions. When this happens I often text “call me.” This never elicits a response. Oh and I will only get another response if I send another text. It’s like he is thinking I can only text please not a dreaded phone call.  On the rare occasion that he does actually pick up the phone to call it will be a very very very brief conversation. We have the shortest conversations. They generally go something like this…

“Hello!!!” I always have lots of enthusiasm in my voice, this is probably what scares him to texting.

“Hi.” This is generally with no enthusiasm. Think that guy who does the eye drop commercials.

“What’s up?” This is said with a smile, so it sounds warm and inviting.

“Nothing, just wanted to see how you are doing?”

“I am lovely…,” but generally before I can finish the sentence or ask him how he is, he will respond with…

“Well I’m about to eat, go into this store, drive through a tunnel, say hey to my mother, etc. So I will talk with you later.”

WTH! Well then why did you call me? I never say this but its exactly what I am thinking. Maybe I will text that to him after he jumps off the phone. I just feel that if you know you are about to do something, do that first then call me. HaHA! Jokes on me! I guess this is why we always go back to texting.