Feast or Famine

"Mission aborted."  That's what I told my work gal-pals after another disappointing evening in which codename: "J" didn't show.  I had already backed down on what must have been some obvious fifth-grade-style flirting, although he had proceeded in his standard-fifth-grade-mixed signals.  It was last Friday.  I'd had a doozy of a day and as though she had read my mind, my friend Candace popped her head in the control room advertising margaritas, post-show.  "Si, mucho gusto," I said, wiping imaginary sweat beads off of my forehead.  Then to my quasi-horror, she turns to J who is leaning in the door frame and casually says, "Want tequila?"  "Yeah, tequila sounds great,"he says in that sexy-stomach-butterfly-inspiring voice.  "You bringing it up here?"  For the first time since I had decided I kinda had a crush on J, I found some balls.  "No,"I said, interrupting their conversation, "You have to come out with us."  "Okay,"he says with slow grin, "Where are we going?"  (insert me, mentally dancing around wildly).  Candace takes the reins saying, "El Ricon on the strip, about an hour after the show."  "Oh yeah,"he says, "I love that place.  I can definitely drop by."

I couldn't believe it.  For about a month, I had been subtly hinting to J that he would be welcome at any outing, all to no avail.  Mind you, I had never actually invited him, per say, but I had started to feel pathetic and desperate, and I wasn't in the right mindset to sit my neck out there for some cute guy--only to have my head chopped off.  Finally...I had found the perfect way to actually invite my crush out.  And he said had yes.

I spent the rest of the show fantasizing: by the end of the night we would be drunk...and totally up for making bad decisions.  We would be kissing in the rain-soaked alley figment of my imagination in no time.  The show ended and I hopped up to go to the post-show meeting, but that's when my heart dropped into my stomach.  I didn't have to turn around to know what was going on--nor did I have to question what my women's intuition immediately told me.  I heard the tell-tale sound of someone punching out their time card.  I knew, just knew it was J--dipping out before the post-show meeting.  Not even hanging around to ask any details about our margarita adventure, not hanging around to talk to me, not hanging around to get anyone's phone number to make sure he got to the right place at the right time... He was running off before anyone could stop him and I knew I wouldn't see him that night.

As we walked up to El Ricon I relayed how pissed and depressed I was to one of my work girls.  She was blown away by my pessimism.  "You don't know that he's not coming," she insisted.  "I bet he just went home to change.  Hey, he could already be there.  I don't see why you are being so negative."  "I just know he's not coming," I said, frustrated.  I presented her with the facts and she explained them away saying, "Well, I think you're wrong, and he'll be here."

Sadly, I wasn't wrong.  Candace even sent a text message his way (after obtaining his phone number in a true stalker-esqe fashion) to which he never replied.  "Mission abort guys,"I insisted.  "I have been getting mixed signals for weeks now, but this is the clearest thing he's sent my way, period.  He's not interested."  This was not the answer my hopeful, team-love friends were looking for.  "You don't know what happened,"they cheered.  "He could still show up."  Or, "Maybe he misunderstood and got the wrong place" or "Maybe his guy friends called him and he wanted to go out with them instead," or perhaps the worst and most stupid explanation of them all, "Maybe he just likes you so much...he's too intimidated to come out." 

Sorry to be a Debbie-downer, but my mind was made up.  I had been looking for answers in the most subtle gestures and words.  I had been digging for interest in flirtatious comments, but I had no solid proof.  Finally, after a month of dissecting everything about the way J interacted with me, the most compelling evidence was shoved in my face (or...actually...the lack thereof, was shoved in my face.)  "Mission aborted girls.  I don't want anything to do with this guy.  He's obviously just a flirt, and he doesn't mean anything by the things he says and does.  Why would he lie and say he would come out, when he clearly never planned to come?" (Que more of my friends' numerous, ridiculous theories.)  "Well, whatever, it doesn't matter.  I don't want you guys to even mention the fact that he didn't come to him, no teasing, no nothing.  I'm over it," I stated.  I made it very clear that I no longer wanted assistance in Operation Snag J.  I no longer cared whether or not he was invited to come out and play.  I would have preferred a simple, honest "not interested" over a lie and a quick exit.

Dos strong margaritas later, I returned to the station with a friend.  I needed to sober up before I got on the road back home that night.  Finally, on my way back from the bathroom and out the door, I saw J, locked outside the studio.  I considered just completely breezing past him, not even willing to acknowledge his dilema.  Instead, the slightly tipsy version of me pulled out my key and said, "Do you need to get in?"  Homeboy didn't even so much as spare me a glance.  "Nah, I think Will's got me."  I was instantly livid.  Not even a, 'oh, sorry I didn't make it over to the restaurant'?  Or a 'thank you for offering to let me in, even though I lied to you guys'?  I strutted out the door without a word.  Fine.  You've got Will.

They say when one door closes, a window opens.  Perhaps they are right.  Let's call my new window, "Marathon Man".  About one week ago, a coworker of my mother's had apparently walked into her room and said, out of the blue, "I've found your daughter a man."  The man in question helps out with this coworker's son's track team and he was rumored to be hilarious, very nice, and sporting a rockin' runner's body.  Although I have never known my mother to meddle in my romantic agenda, this coworker and she hatched a plan to have me meet Marathon Man at a track meet over the weekend.  Unbeknownist to them, I don't plan my weekends based around the fact that my mother and company might set me up on a blind date.  So I had apparently over-booked.  I had plans during the track meet and honestly didn't think much of it.  "Oh well," my mom had said, "Maybe some other time."

That other time came much sooner than expected.  The next morning in fact, while we stood in line at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.  My mother's coworker called, having heard from Marathon Man.  Apparently, he had sent her a message that morning saying, "I don't even know this girl, and she's already standing me up?"  I was somewhat charmed.  I suppose a have a soft spot for a smart ass.  Somehow, I found myself set up for the most awkward set-up in history.  5:00, Barnes and Noble (where my last relationship had died less than 6 months before) with the coworker, her son, Marathon Man, me, and my mother in tow.  We all sat around chatting for awhile--all excess parties making sure Marathon Man and I would be fine on our own before they left.  When they finally did disperse, he and I strolled inside where he promptly bought one of the Twilight books.  Although this was a HUGE turn-off (I'm sorry, I'm not into that) I was completely impressed with the way he handled it.  Apparently, the book was for his mother (or he's saving face, who knows at this point).  It made for excellent teasing.  I offered to store the book in my purse, so that he could hang onto his manhood.

We spent the next couple of hours chatting in Panera Bread.  I found out we had quite a bit in common--a shared dislike of pickle spears, country music, and former presidents.  By the end of the night, I had decided he was respectful, mature, and funny.  I also decided I had no idea what he'd thought of me.  We walked to our cars and stood their in the awkward, end of the first...date...set-up....something....silence.  "So how does this work?" he asked smiling and spreading his arms.  "Do I get your number or do you get mine...or do we exchange?"   Okay...so he's interested?  "I guess we can exchange."  I gave him mine and he promptly called me to make sure I wasn't sending him to a rejection hotline.  We stood outside and talked until I was shivering and told him I would have to go.  "When are you coming back into town?" He asked as I begin to stroll away.  Interested? "Busy weekend with homecoming,"I said, playing it cool.  "Gotcha."

I got home a couple of minutes later, my mother curious as to how the rest of the night had gone, when my phone alerted me to a text message.  "Book thief."  I had never returned the Twilight book that I had stored in my purse.  "I'm so sorry!  Your poor mother," I responded.  "Don't worry about it,"he texted back.  "This was my plan all along.  Now you'll have to come out and play again."  I smiled.  "Nah," I said.  "I'm just gonna read this thing and block any incoming calls."  We bantered back and forth for a bit until I promised to return the book.

The next day, I received another text.  This one from my mother asking me what I'd thought of Marathon Man.  "Who wants to know?" I texted back.  Apparently he was interested.  He had contacted my mom's coworker asking for advice on when he should call.  I felt emboldened by the revelation.  He texted me yesterday, asking if I would be free to talk at any point that night.  I proceeded to set up my first phone date in months.

However...there's that other saying I've been hearing a lot lately..."It's either a feast or famine."  And I suppose that's true too.  I sat outside sipping a margarita at my typical Tuesday night hangout with work girlfriends.  Tequila Tuesday has been a tradition since I came to work in Tuscaloosa again.  Recently, we had been trying to invite J and other work boys out for our ritual with some success in all areas...except for J.  It didn't much matter since I had aborted my mission.  At work that day, I paid absolutely zero attention to my plaid-production hottie.  He hadn't seemed to mind or notice, either.  I gulped down some of my frosty beverage, and confessed I had been somewhat sad to lose my little work crush.  "It was just something fun to look forward to,"I sighed.  "Oh well,"my girlfriends agreed, now having seen the light and deciding it was best to move on.  "You've moved on nicely!"they encouraged.  I grinned and nodded.  "Yes.  And I have a phone date tonight!"

I think it's called "irony".  

"Hey ladies."There he stood, J, rising from behind me like a ghost.  I wish I had a snapshot of all of our faces at that moment when we realized he was actually there.  And what timing he had.  With him, two other production guys.  We hadn't invited any of them this week....and yet here they were.  I was stunned.  I just stared at him, my mouth hanging open.  

They produced to sit down, J directly across from me.  He continued to catch my eye all night.  He was cute, funny, and completely charming.  After a couple of margaritas...my former mission reared its head in full-force.  "So you guys do this every Tuesday, huh?  And what about Friday, you went for margaritas last Friday too, huh?" he asked casually.  As usual, the tequila had made my tongue loosen up.  "Yeah.  You were invited to that too, so where were you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.  His smile is perfect.  But his answers are those of an immature 23 year old boy, who loves to play games.  "My phone died.  I never saw that you guys had sent me a text message, and I just completely forgot,"he replied.  "You liar,"I called him out.  "No,"he feigned hurt.  "I'm not a liar, how dare you say that.  I definitely would have come."  I glowered at him from over my glass.  "I would have,"he insisted.  "Alright," I let it go, still not completely believing him.

When we drove away that night, my friend turned to me and said, "He likes you.  I watched him.  I could tell from the way he looked at you.  He really does like you."  "You aren't just saying that are you?"I still wasn't anywhere near convinced.  "I don't want you to lie for my sake.  I'd rather know the truth and just deal with it."  "No.  I could see it in the way he looked at you," she insisted.  Honestly, I'm still not convinced.  But somehow...I went from starving to being seated at a great feast.

I have a theory that boys have some sort of sixth sense.  It's like...they know when you've decided to give up on them and move on...and that's the moment they make their move or grand gesture.  They show up in your life in a big way, right when you're completely ready to write them off.  Sometimes, I think its just coincidence.  Other times, I think guys just like to have options...and when they feel one slipping away, they suddenly become possessive of it again.  Who knows.  Maybe my ignoring J was what had him coming out to MY girls night, uninvited...while I had been trying to legitimately invite him for weeks.

I suppose I won't know for awhile.  I'll just have to feel it all out, what I really want from Marathon Man or J...if anything from either at all.  I'll say one thing:  I'll take a feast over a famine anyday...I've been hungry for awhile.