Have you ever laid in bed, clutching the phone picturing what you’d say to someone? Have you ever done this when it comes to someone of the opposite sex? Have you ever done this when you were thirty?
Well, I can safely answer yes to all of these questions. Cause I just did it. Again.
I can remember being twelve years old and wanting to call a girl I was interested in and sitting with my head on the kitchen table and playing out the phone conversation in my head for however long it took me to work up the nerve to call. And, then the inspiration would overcome me, I’d dial the seven digits (pre cellies bitches so you didn’t have to dial the area code every time), I’d hold my breath, and then, here it comes, “Oh, I’m sorry, she’s in the shower. Can I have her call you back?” Seriously? What? Why’d I waste my time? Silly rabbit.
So here I am, eighteen years later, situation is eerily similar. Phone has digits instead of being rotary. There is no chord on this phone. But, I’m still a pussy. I think there may still be a chord attached to my belly button or some shit.
The odd thing is I’ve hung out with this girl several times now. The first time we hung out by ourselves we went to see some live music and we ended up just talking outside the entire time. Literally saw three minutes of total music and that was when we were buying drinks on several occasions. Not sure if it was a date, or if we were just hanging out getting to know each other, not really sure the difference these days. (I’m going to have to ask for clarification from the other party involved.) I went into it thinking it wasn't really a "date" since we didn't know enough about each other, and we really had to get to know each other better for it to be a "date."
The second time I’m pretty sure it was more "date-like" and if it was a date, it was the best second “date” I’ve ever had. Epic. It was awesome. If it wasn't a date, then it was the best second hang out session I've ever had. Epic. It was awesome. (Someday I’ll blog about it, but not right now.) In fact, I had such a good time with her that when I dropped her off I said, and I kid you not, “Thanks for such a good time. This was the second best date, (beat) I mean the best second date I’ve ever been on.”
Did you hear that?
I used the word date in front of a girl.
The “D-word.”
It’s been like four years since I said that and didn’t mean, “Hey, do you know what the date is? The 21st?” Wow. What’s going on here? Crazy. Who am I? And, how did I get so good looking? ;)
I was shocked, and I had a feeling that she was shocked too - judging both by the look on her face, and how quickly she exited the car. But that's okay, it didn't change how much fun we both admittedly had.
I once heard you can only be a pussy for so long and then life forces you to grow up. Actually, I just made that up. And, I am living proof that it’s probably not true.
So, here I am. Thirty-years old, clutching onto the phone, playing out the entire conversation in my head, and then finally, I work up the nerve. I hit send. (She’s in my contact list; Groundswell don’t need to dial her number.) It’s ringing. It’s ringing. It’s her…voicemail. What the fuck? Are you kidding? Jesus (beat, and an octave lower) Christ. The more things change the more things stay the same. I’m in mid-message, stammering over the English language like a drunken zebra, and I hear a noise that lets me know I’m getting a phone call. Hey, look at this. She’s calling me back. Wow. This is an unexpected twist.
The other twist is that she told me on the first time we hung out that she hates it when a guy starts to like her and starts calling her. Haha. Oh, the joys of technology. I’ve been sticking pretty much to text messaging, and keeping the phone calls to a minimum. I think we’re both on the same page, and unsure of this whole “dating” world, and are in no rush to be anywhere where we're not, but we're figuring it out. People always do. Communication is key.
She also told me she had no interest in dating anyone because they tend to get in the way of her friends and her acting. I kid you not. She’s like a female version of me, but instead of the word “friends” and “acting” insert “music.” See, I told you communication was key.
That was of course until she came back from the bathroom break later in the night and the alcohol was kicking in and she told me “well that’s all true, BUT, if the right guy came along….” I’m still working that one out. Sometimes, communication can be confusing, especially when drinking with a beautiful girl.
Where’s my guitar?
So, the phone conversation went well. She said he absolutely would like to hang out again and we were going to hang out on what was, now, this past Friday for my roommate's birthday. Good Italian food and wine - it was a guaranteed good time.
The phone call was quick, painless, and one might even say pleasant. It was, however, entirely different than the one I had played out in my head while lying on my bed. Shocking.
I think the reason the phone is scary is that you can't see the other person's face to get feedback. You have to just believe it's there. When I first talked to her on the phone she had told me that she normally doesn't like to talk on the phone for this exact reason - she can't see the other person's face. I thought this was very astute and made total sense.
Did you hear that?
I used the word date in front of a girl.
The “D-word.”
It’s been like four years since I said that and didn’t mean, “Hey, do you know what the date is? The 21st?” Wow. What’s going on here? Crazy. Who am I? And, how did I get so good looking? ;)
I was shocked, and I had a feeling that she was shocked too - judging both by the look on her face, and how quickly she exited the car. But that's okay, it didn't change how much fun we both admittedly had.
I once heard you can only be a pussy for so long and then life forces you to grow up. Actually, I just made that up. And, I am living proof that it’s probably not true.
So, here I am. Thirty-years old, clutching onto the phone, playing out the entire conversation in my head, and then finally, I work up the nerve. I hit send. (She’s in my contact list; Groundswell don’t need to dial her number.) It’s ringing. It’s ringing. It’s her…voicemail. What the fuck? Are you kidding? Jesus (beat, and an octave lower) Christ. The more things change the more things stay the same. I’m in mid-message, stammering over the English language like a drunken zebra, and I hear a noise that lets me know I’m getting a phone call. Hey, look at this. She’s calling me back. Wow. This is an unexpected twist.
The other twist is that she told me on the first time we hung out that she hates it when a guy starts to like her and starts calling her. Haha. Oh, the joys of technology. I’ve been sticking pretty much to text messaging, and keeping the phone calls to a minimum. I think we’re both on the same page, and unsure of this whole “dating” world, and are in no rush to be anywhere where we're not, but we're figuring it out. People always do. Communication is key.
She also told me she had no interest in dating anyone because they tend to get in the way of her friends and her acting. I kid you not. She’s like a female version of me, but instead of the word “friends” and “acting” insert “music.” See, I told you communication was key.
That was of course until she came back from the bathroom break later in the night and the alcohol was kicking in and she told me “well that’s all true, BUT, if the right guy came along….” I’m still working that one out. Sometimes, communication can be confusing, especially when drinking with a beautiful girl.
Where’s my guitar?
So, the phone conversation went well. She said he absolutely would like to hang out again and we were going to hang out on what was, now, this past Friday for my roommate's birthday. Good Italian food and wine - it was a guaranteed good time.
The phone call was quick, painless, and one might even say pleasant. It was, however, entirely different than the one I had played out in my head while lying on my bed. Shocking.
I think the reason the phone is scary is that you can't see the other person's face to get feedback. You have to just believe it's there. When I first talked to her on the phone she had told me that she normally doesn't like to talk on the phone for this exact reason - she can't see the other person's face. I thought this was very astute and made total sense.
But, sometimes, I feel that a phone call is better than text messaging. Maybe I'm old school. Maybe I just like hearing a female voice at the other end of the line. Maybe it's the excitement and adrenaline rush. Maybe it's all of the above. Maybe it's "c." Who really knows. I'm just guessing most of the time when it comes to girls.
The morale of the story (guessing): Grow a pair. Call her. Most girls like zebras, especially when drunk (you can decide if I mean the zebras or the girls).
PS - I talked to her about the whole "d-word" incident this past Friday while we were hanging out again and drinking celebrating my roommate's birthday. Turns out the first time we were just hanging out we were, just as I thought, getting to know each other better, but it was during our conversation that she started to like me. And, me using the “d-word” as we said goodbye after the second time we hung out, totally freaked her out too. She said a wave of anxiety went through her when I said it. Haha. I love it. The two of us are ridiculous, and it makes me laugh. :)
The good news is that when we do hang out it’s always a good time. So why worry about the details? If we're just hanging out or if we're on a "date" doesn't really matter. It's the enjoyment that is important. Fuck the details. That’s what having a day job is for - boring details.
Peace,
Groundswell
The morale of the story (guessing): Grow a pair. Call her. Most girls like zebras, especially when drunk (you can decide if I mean the zebras or the girls).
PS - I talked to her about the whole "d-word" incident this past Friday while we were hanging out again and drinking celebrating my roommate's birthday. Turns out the first time we were just hanging out we were, just as I thought, getting to know each other better, but it was during our conversation that she started to like me. And, me using the “d-word” as we said goodbye after the second time we hung out, totally freaked her out too. She said a wave of anxiety went through her when I said it. Haha. I love it. The two of us are ridiculous, and it makes me laugh. :)
The good news is that when we do hang out it’s always a good time. So why worry about the details? If we're just hanging out or if we're on a "date" doesn't really matter. It's the enjoyment that is important. Fuck the details. That’s what having a day job is for - boring details.
Peace,
Groundswell
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