A single response.

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I went out with my sister and her husband tonight and had a blissful evening filled with watching the Queen of England “jump” out of a helicopter (i.e. walked out at the appropriate time as if said historical figure had launched her 86-year-old self out of a briskly moving aero-plane) and trying to figure out exactly why all those sick children (or were they orphans?) were jumping on beds at that time of night.

Yay! Olympics!

When I got home I stumbled across to a new message on Facebook.

And by “stumbled across” I mean, “walked into the house, with a good buzz, found pizza in the fridge, heated it up and listened to ‘Ignition’ by R. Kelly twice while  devouring said Italian greatness.”

Any who, I came upon a new message from the guy I’ve been talking about in my last two posts. It read as follows:

 

I’m assuming that by “life saver” is referring to the fact that I drove him home that night and not that I am a predecessor to the Coast Guard…

Is this a vague response? Yes.

Am I surprised by it? Nah.

Honestly I never dreamed of having a chance with this man.  He’s accomplished and cute and way out of my league.

I let myself get swept up in the opinions of others. The well-meaning outbursts of my co-workers and friends who made me believe I ever had a chance with him.  And I know this appears self-deprecating but I know myself well enough to know that, as much as I may have fantasized about it, this guy was not someone who I could ever be with.  He’s just playing for the majors while I’m still playing bench in the minors.

This is okay, I think, because I know a few new things about myself:

  1. I’m resilient.  I bounce back.  I’m not crushed by the defeat in this message.
  2. I’m confident.  Which isn’t something I could say about myself when I started this blog, I’m not as afraid to say something on my behalf to a guy any longer, which I believe has a lot to do with the support of my friends and my family.
  3. I’m looking forward.  I know that, although this didn’t work out, I have options in the future still.

Am I writing this guy off? Oh hell no.  Who knows? He could break up with his current girlfriend next week and think of me for all I know.

But, until then, I’m staying positive.  I’m not pining, I’m not obsessive.  I’m aware; A little hopeful.

Hell, I’m not sure if this was even a rejection.

What do you all think? Any thoughts? Was I tossed to the curb?

 

 

And now a little Wilson Philips, just cause I can:

A single push…off a cliff into a sea of embarrassment.

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Remember that guy from the bar? The one that I completely failed to reel in much to the despair of my older sister, Alicia, who thinks he would have been the best catch for me to land and has left me replaying my embarrassing performance in the flirting arena.

You remember who I’m talking about now?

Good.

Well, my co-worker and new friend, Amy, convinced me to send him a Facebook message last night.  It was a push that I needed.  I would never send a message like this one without encouragement:

 

I left him my number at the end of that message, pressed send, and crossed my fingers  took a shot of Fireball.

Then it came to my attention that I never asked the most important question: Was this guy single?

The answer to that question is simple.

It was one word, two hopeless letters:

NO.

Apparently he broke up with his awful girlfriend and is now dating another girl. Shows you the importance of checking facts before trying anything reckless.

Amy is still hopeful and it’s the only thing keeping me treading water, my head barely staying over the sea of embarrassment  I now found myself in.  I don’t know why her hopefulness is rubbing on me but it’s probably better than being completely down on myself.

At the very least I can say that I tried.  I put myself out there.

I’ll update you if he responds to my message ever.

 

A single, epic fail.

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Ever hear of an epic fail?

It’s not just a failure, it’s a failure of epic proportions. It’s the pyramid of failures, the Eiffel Tower, the Great Wall.

Get the picture?

Now add me to the picture. If you don’t know what I look like just picture a leprechaun for now (that’s pretty close). See me? Standing there pretending to hold up my leaning Tower of Failure while wearing a fanny pack (that makes the failure more epic, don’t you think)?

Well, my failure came the other night, when after an awful day of torture (waitressing), I was at the bar enjoying shots a beer when I noticed a guy that I knew through my older sister. I smiled, re-introduced myself, made the normal pleasantries and went back to drinking with one of my co-workers.

I didn’t think much about it. Well, I did think: “Damn, he’s cute.” But that was about it.

That was, until he moved over to start talking to me.

One thing led to another and I ended up driving him home because he couldn’t drive safely.

“Want to come inside?” he asked.

“Um, sure.” I had seen enough episodes of Sex and the City to know that usually meant something was going to happen. But I was conflicted as to whether I wanted to do anything. He was drunk. For all I knew this was just because he had no other options for the evening and I have a strict “no one night stand” clause these days.

I didn’t want him to regret a decision he had made while drinking.

So I went in and stood at least two awkward feet away from him at all times and let him show me his house. Then he walked me to my car.

The moment the door closed I regretted it. This guy was a catch and I knew that I had let him go like a child who didn’t want to keep the fish she had just reeled in. I was tempted to get out of the car, kiss this boy and give up all my fears.

But my fears run deep and I stayed with my hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel and drove myself home.

Epic fail?

You bet your ass.

And if he comes back and is interested a second time you better believe that I won’t hold back again.

A single historical stud.

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The other day I was sitting on the stoop of the Fire Hose Cart House playing with (dominating) the ants at my feet when the sun disappeared.

I felt immediate relief as my pasty, pasty ginger skin was given a break from the persistent beating the sun only offers it on a daily basis and relished the idea of the sun disappearing forever until a more logical thought hit me: A customer must be here. 

Without looking up I put on a smile and, as I began to stand, I put on my tour-guide voice (it’s a mixture of Game-Show Liv, ‘Let’s show ’em what they’ve won Bob!’ with a sprinkle of sarcasm and a dash of knowledge thrown in for good measure) and started to speak: “Hi! Welcome to the Fire Hose Cart House.  Are you interested in learning about our town’s early fire prevention methods?”

As I was speaking I still hadn’t looked at the person standing in front of me.  I was more concerned with hiding my phone (not allowed out while I’m working) and my iced coffee (not allowed on the premise) before anyone else might become privy to my rule breaking tendencies at work. But, once I had concealed all my indiscretions I glanced up at person before me.

And only one word echoed in my head at what stood before me:

DAMN.

Right in front of me was an adorable boy of good stock (that’s historical speak for ‘fine’) waiting for me to give him a tour.  This doesn’t happen often for me at work.  The most willing male participants I see usually have walkers. Anyone else who might be close in age is being dragged by a girlfriend.

Then he spoke and the situation became a whole lot sweeter:

“Hi, I’m Paul.  I’m the new interpreter for the historical association.”

Oh.

My.

Sweet.

Jesus.

Life just got interesting.  Not only was he adorable and interested in history but he was going to be working with me?

Just keep breathing, just keep breathing.

The rest of the conversation was spent with me forcing my chin off the floor while I made proper introductions and imagining where we would go on our first date: either a historic walking tour or private tour of the collections space (yeah, I decided we would geek out on the first date).

So, this summer is shaping up quite nicely.

What do y’all think? Would it be absolutely crazy of me to ask him out the next time I see him?