The letter

Well, something good did come out of being pursued by BrownEyes’s friend. After he texted me like a billion times the next day, I decided to just be honest with him and tell him I was having trouble getting over a guy who’d, apparently, recently decided that he’d rather not have me in his life. It was then that he admitted to me that he’d been recently dumped, too, and since then we have formed a quasi-friendship in which we cheer the other on in our respective Efforts At Finding Happiness.

So I’d call that a mini-success. It’s nice to be able to text him at a particularly weak moment and have him reply with something encouraging, and vice versa.

BrownEyes apparently didn’t “get” that I was dipping out on his ass again, and has been blowing up my phone. I’ve only answered once (out of the 8 or so times he’s called), yesterday, just to tell him I was still at work and I would call him later, to buy myself some time to figure out how I was going to break the news to him that he was being dismissed. I came home and wrote out some talking points because when I have to confront someone I get flustered and forget what I was going to say.

Also, despite not being the sharpest tool in the shed, BE has a gift of Conversation Manipulation. He could probably talk a telemarketer into buying HIS shit instead.

Come to think of it, that’s probably why I stayed around as long as I did. Because he convinced me I was having a great time when in actuality I was miserable.

Anyhoots, so I called him back once I was ready to have what would ideally become my final conversation with him before I could talk myself out of it, and this time, HE didn’t answer.

So I plugged my phone up into my charger and began writing some more.

Only this time, it was a letter to New York.

Previously that day, I’d drafted an e-mail that I was going to send to him. Remember how I said there’d been some new developments with our situation that was kinda throwing a monkeywrench into the whole thing? Well, I was going to let him know, through this e-mail, how I felt. While NY and I had loads of fun together, we’d never quite gotten to the emotional level that is so vital in successful relationships. I poured my heart into it while making sure not to sound desperate or vulnerable. I let him know that it was not okay that he was avoiding me (save for the occasional “hope you’re doing well”-esque text he’d send me) but told him if he was having personal issues I was there if he needed me, and not there if he didn’t. I attempted to express that I wanted to salvage what we could of a friendship before he just wrote me off altogether.

I didn’t include that sentiment in the letter in false hope that he’d come crawling back to me to say YES OH LET’S HAVE A RELATIONSHIP INSTEAD AND WE CAN NAME OUR FIRST CHILD DEREK BUT ONLY IF IT’S A BOY AND THEN WE CAN BUY A FORD FOCUS AND OPEN A RETIREMENT ACCOUNT. I honestly DO want to remain friends with him. We have way too much fun with each other to waste a perfectly good friendship on account of his commitment-phobia.

So I concluded the letter stating that if I didn’t hear back from him I’d be hurt, but I would get over it eventually. And also that I couldn’t take not knowing if it was [issue NY told me he currently was having] or the fact that he just didn’t ever want to speak to me again that was causing him to avoid me.

I sent it to several friends, detailing the situation and asking their opinion on it (and thank you SO MUCH to those who gave their input. Heart. You.). One person told me it’d be more personal if I hand-wrote it, and I had to agree.

So after my failed attempt at calling BE from home, I printed out the e-mail and began to write it, almost verbatim, on some leftover wide ruled notebook paper from my college days. It ended up being two pages exactly, with ample spacing and non-threatening penmanship. I folded it up and placed it in an envelope with only NY’s first name on the outside of it.

It was a masterpiece.

I constructed the letter so that anyone who did NOT respond to it had to be the biggest asshole jerkface on planet Earth.

I delivered the letter at approximately 7:30 p.m. in NY’s mailbox and sent him a text that I’d left a note for him there.

I still haven’t heard back from him at 4:45 p.m. the following day.

And if he doesn’t respond? Well then.

Good.

Fucking.

Riddance.

Stalker or sweetie?

I have the benefit of having two of the best parents on the face of the planet. I can “hang” with my parents. They’re my “peeps.”

I’m “hip.”

I could go boozing with my parents any weekend and have just as much fun, if not MORE fun, than if I’d gone out with my friends.

So, a weekend or so ago, my parents decided to take me to a karaoke bar to cheer me up after my shitty week at work and life in general. We went to the trashiest bar in town.

That’s a hard feat to accomplish.

My Dad and I loooove karaoke, so we went and put in some songs. The karaoke guy told me he couldn’t find my song, and to choose another one (I chose “Faith” by George Michael-which was met with crowd approval. Or maybe they just felt sorry for me). A few minutes later, karaoke guy gets on the mic and says that he’s found my song after all, but due to a name mixup, he called some other chick’s name to come sing it.

And you know what happened?

BITCH STOLE MY SONG.

How do you just go up there and steal someone else’s song? What. The. Hell.

I would have sung it better. Just sayin’.

So throughout the night, this guy kept coming up to me and asking me to dance with him to slow songs (this is a REDNECK BAR, remember?). Flattered but a little uncomfortable, I danced with him for part of  a song. The second time he asked me, I turned him down. The third time he invited me to dance? I had to admire his persistence and danced with him again. After that, it was time for me and my parents to ease on down the road. As I was leaving, ole dude came up to me and asked me for my number so he could take me out to dinner sometime. I was caught off guard because even though it was obvious he was into me, I wasn’t prepared for that question.

The guy was nice enough, but totally not someone I would ever date. He told me he had a nine year old, which, although I wouldn’t be opposed to dating a guy with a kid later in life, I can barely handle dating a guy with zero kids, thankyouverymuch, and I’m trying to keep it simple in regards to my love life right now.

I said, “Um, why don’t you just give me yours?”

Yeah, I know. Bad LRC. I should have just told him I wasn’t interested. But like I said, I was caught off guard. I thought I’d made a smart move.

So, fast forward to Wednesday afternoon. I’m sitting at my desk, writing a news release and being a busy bee, when my work phone rings. I answer it in my usual manner, “Resource Development, this is [LRC].”

And the voice on the other end of the phone says, “I hate to call you at work, but I haven’t heard from you yet, and I’m gettin’ hungry over here!”

I am confused as hell at this point. “Um, who is this?”

“[Redacted.] I was wondering if you might want to go out to eat tonight?”

A few things. I only told this guy my first name, and yes, where I work, because when we talked at the bar we were just having casual conversation and the subject came up. So he probably looked me up on my company’s website and went through the staff directory until he found someone with my first name. Points for resourcefulness?

Secondly, how on earth do you call someone at work, whom you have only spoken to once, briefly, and expect them to know who the hell you are without addressing yourself first? It just seemed rude to me. I thought I was being prank called at first, to be quite honest with you.

I politely turned him down, stating that I had a basketball game to attend, and then he came back with, “How about tomorrow night then?”

“. . . I’m sorry. I’m . . .sorta dating someone.”

“Well, I tried.”

I kinda have to admire his no-nonsense approach to dating, though, even though it did creep me out a bit. Bothering someone at work to try and get them to go out with me isn’t exactly the approach I would take. But hey, what do I know. I am definitely not a dating expert.

Duh.

What would your reaction be if someone looked you up and called you at work? Would you fear for your safety? Or would you be flattered? Disgusted? I’m curious.

Irritation

I’ll spare you any poeticism or whimsy I may have otherwise included in this post and just get right down to business.

I’m irritated.

With the New York situation.

I’m irritated that he’s not here.

That he was gone for a week, back for two days, and now gone for two weeks again. I’m irritated that the bulk of our contact with each other has consisted of random picture messages with little to no meaning. That he hasn’t been calling back when he said he would. That the frequency of his calls and texts is dwindling as the days pass.

That he could already be back but he’s chosen to wait a bit longer. That he’s apparently not as anxious to see me as I am to see him.

I’m irritated that I’m stuck here in Small Town USA hanging out with my cats and watching American Idol because all my other friends are too busy while he is in NYC with all his friends and plenty of shit to do.

I’m irritated that it seems I’ve been relegated to a secretary of sorts—checking his mail, watering his plants, shipping a package to him, and apparently serving as an Allergist Referral Service.

But you know what I am most irritated about? I’m irritated that I have no fucking clue how to deal with it.

He hasn’t wronged me or intentionally hurt my feelings. He’s really done nothing wrong. These things I’m doing for him? Are totally voluntary (except the Allergist Referral one—no, NY, I don’t know any good fucking allergists in this area, and you know damned well how to use Google). I’m being a good friend. I would expect nothing less from him if the tables were turned.

Then why do I feel like such a fucking pushover?

I love doing things for people. I’ve established this. Nothing breaks my heart more than disappointing someone. And if I needed help with something, I’m quite certain he’d have no problem offering it to me. I just haven’t asked him for help with anything.

I’m kinda curious to see how he’d react if I did ask for help with something. Now, don’t get me wrong. I hate games. But I just want to be sure I’m right about him—that he does want to do right by me and isn’t just using me for whatever mundane tasks he needs completed while he’s away.

Any ideas on something I should ask him to bring back for me, New Yorkers? Something unique to NYC? If he goes out of his way to get something for me that I have requested, then my doubts will be squashed. I figure it’s worth a shot.

But, I’m still fucking irritated.

Where to draw the line?

Some of you wanted updates on the NY sketchy past/just effing talk to him about it, you stupid, stupid woman situation. Let me clarify a couple things here.

Without going into too much detail . . . pretty much the gist of what I was told was this: NY used to be a player and kind of an asshole.

There are several issues I have with this situation. Let’s make a bullet list, shall we?

• This is really shitty slash disappointing to hear. Having said that . . .
• . . . it’s in the past. He was young then. When I was younger? I was kinda, well, slutty. And I wouldn’t want people I know telling NY about my past promiscuous behavior. Who am I to judge him? I wasn’t exactly an angel back then, either. I mean, as recently as November, I was still dating BrownEyes when I went on my first date with NY. Does that make me a “player” or a “slut”? I don’t know . . . I don’t really think so. It’s all relative, I suppose. To an outsider, I probably look like a turboslut, but you know what? I’m single. I’ll date who I want.
• Although, I dropped BE like a hot potato when I realized that HOLY SHIT NY ROCKS MY WORLD. And I’d be pretty peed off if I found out NY was dating someone else right now.
• It’s not really any of my business. What’s done is done. I’m not one to discuss old relationships/sexual partners in great detail with my significant other unless I’m in a serious relationship with the person, and even then, it’s uncomfortable for me. In some situations I can see where certain information would be vital to disclose, but most of it? I don’t want to hear.
• I’m definitely much more guarded now as a result of this new information, so as not to allow myself to be hurt (AGAIN), but all his actions up to this point? Have indicated that he is not using me. For sex or otherwise. We go out on dates all the time—he takes me to lunch, dinner, the car wash . . . THE CAR WASH, PEOPLE. We have FUN. At the CAR WASH. He never, ever booty calls or texts. That, to me? Is not how a “player” acts. A “player” uses one for sex, acts aloof and disinterested, and has at least two girls he keeps on the backburner. With the amount of time we spend together? He would surely have super powers if he were able to be dating someone else.

Please, enlighten me if I’m being dumb. I really don’t see a way in which I can positively bring this to light without looking like a whiny bitch. It almost seems like a moot point now. I’ve observed his behavior more closely since the information was revealed to me, and he seems to be anything but a player. And he has never acted like an asshole to me. Ever.

I honestly don’t see any good coming of asking him if he used to be a player. That just seems like an incredibly rude question to me. If he asked me if I used to be a slut?

Yeah, that would not go over too well with me.

Am I being a coward/pushover if I just ignore the whole thing?

(Please consider this as an aside: I have not used the “men make me want to take a cheesegrater to my eyeball” tag in a while. THAT, my friends, says a lot. I don’t leave a lot out on my blog, so if NY had done something ultra-shitty to me, you would have heard about it. His behavior so far has been excellent. And you know how smitten I am with him. That hasn’t changed.)

Someone shat on my front seat

When I was sixteen, I got a new car.

I know. I was one of THOSE kids. Although I may have BEEN spoiled, I didn’t ACT spoiled. But that’s not relevant to my story.

If you’ve ever been in a new car before, you know that the new car smell is one of the best smells ever. When your car loses that new car smell, it is a sad day.

For me, that day was the day I left my window down and one of my cats decided to defecate on my front seat.

Yeah, I know. What. The. Fuck.

I cleaned the poo as best I could, but I never did get that new car smell back. My car didn’t smell like poop, but it sure didn’t smell like new car, either.

That’s how I feel about my current situation with New York.

Some information has been revealed to me about NY’s past that I really, really didn’t want to hear. I understand the reason the person told me, but it just sucks to find this out. Things were going SO well, and now I just don’t know what to think.

It’s nothing TOO terrible. He didn’t rape a girl or anything, which is what my first thought was when my friend told me he’d heard some “horrible” things about NY.

I know, I’m so morbid.

Not that NY has ever done anything to exhibit tendencies toward rape, or anything. I mean, that’s just fucked up. But I think I think these things because I’d heard that about a guy I used to know several years back, so whenever someone says they have some bad news about a person’s past, that’s where my mind wanders.

I’m efffed up in the head. It’s okay. I know this.

So, even though I know the things NY did are in the past, haven’t we all done things we wish we could take back? Haven’t we all had a phase in our lives when our behavior was less than stellar?

While I’m not excusing NY’s past behavior, I do think he’s changed since then. He certainly hasn’t exhibited any behavior that would insinuate he’s still the same as he was in wilder times.

But I feel like someone shat on my front seat. That “new car smell” isn’t there anymore.

And while I know the new car smell doesn’t last forever, it sucks when it’s gone prematurely.

Again, with the title, I’m not blaming the person who told me these things for “shitting on my front seat,” because it’s not his fault. He was only passing along information he thought would be relevant to my situation so that I wouldn’t get hurt later on.

I was with NY earlier today, after I had heard the unfortunate details of his icky past, and we had a good time as usual, but it’s not the same.

I want to forget and just move on, but I just can’t help but feel a little down and out about the whole situation.

Tell me freaders, what would you do if, from a third party, you found out a deep, dark secret from your significant other’s past that could potentially impact your relationship as it is in the present?

Because right now I just don’t know how to feel. I guess “duped” could sum it up. Definitely “confused” as well.

Sigh.

2009? I hope you kick 2008’s ass.

Aside from Becky’s Bitchery (which was really only a miniscule annoyance that had little to no bearing on my psyche. I just felt like venting all WHERE-DOES-SHE-COME-OFF?-style and then I was over it), my holidays were very enjoyable. Time with the family involved shooting Miller Lite cans with a BB gun (OH YES WE DID), and taking the boys down a notch by being the only one to hit the can on the first try (total luck, btw). My cousin, who is a Marine, especially liked being upstaged by a tiny female with little to no experience with firearms.

Oh, I snuck into my first movie ever! I blame New York. I didn’t even realize what we were doing until it had already happened. We saw Seven Pounds (which was soooo good), but after the movie, as I was pulling out of my parking space, I said, “I’m sorry. I really have to go buy two tickets so I don’t feel bad.” Guilt was eating me up for having snuck into the movie, so I parked again, went back in to the ticket office, and purchased two tickets.

I know, I know.

If I had really been thinking, I would have left them at the counter and told the ticket person to give them to the next couple who came to buy tickets for the movie and say “Merry Christmas,” but alas, I am not a good thinker-on-my-feet. NY was apparently amused with my supreme presence of conscience. I guess he thinks The Guilt/Worry/Fear is cute.

He’d better get used to it.

Just sayin’.

The next few days (and even today) were filled with tissues, Sea Mist, and Sudafed. I guess NY passed his sickness on to me. So no fornication. Frown.

Speaking of amorous relations, I was hoping to ring in the new year with a new year’s kiss from NY, which I didn’t think would be too much of a stretch since we have been seeing each other pretty much every day for the past week or so. When he came over last night, I dropped several hints about NYE, and he wasn’t biting. I finally just flat-out asked him what he wanted to do for NYE, and his answer sorta perplexed me.

“I might not do anything.”

Huh?

Call me strange, but I just can’t imagine not doing anything on NYE. It seems like if you were to go out one night in your year, wouldn’t it be that night? I guess I’m rarely ever single on new year’s, so I’ve always had plans. I mean, a couple years ago Murray and I drank champagne at our house and I passed out at 12:30 like an old lady (yeah I’m a trouper), but I was with someone. I can’t imagine a more depressing scenario than sitting on my couch with my cats and a box of tissues, watching Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve (featuring Ryan Seacrest!) while weeping to myself about what a failure my year has been.

No offense if that’s what YOUR new year’s eve is lookin’ like. Hey, if the shoe fits . . .

Is it just me? What do you think, people? I know we’ve been hanging out a lot lately, but it seems like he’d want to save up valuable LRC time for NYE rather than just some random Monday or Tuesday, right?

Don’t get me wrong, if that’s what he wants, I’m totally not going to stand in his way. It’s just going to be weird if I go out and my friends are asking me where the eff my Man Friend is and I have to say, “Uh, he’s at home,” because, inevitably, people will think we are A) fighting or B) broken up.

Note to self: STOP WORRYING ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK, LRC.

And if I have to get a New Year’s Kiss request from some random strange drunk dude at the bar, I may have to throw up.

HELP!

So, I know I haven’t mentioned BrownEyes in a while, and there’s a reason for that. Actually, there are at least TWO reasons.

1. I don’t want to get lambasted by my reader.
2. There hasn’t been a whole lot to say about the sitch because I haven’t seen him in almost two weeks.

We’ve been playing phone tag a bit. He called on Thanksgiving and left me a Happy Thanksgiving message. I called him back and got no answer. He called back another day and left a message. I returned his call and got no answer. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I’ve kinda only been keeping up the “checking in” phone calls (he is quite the fan of the “check in”—nevermind that we actually might want to SEE each other) as a courtesy. I don’t really know why. As we’ve drifted apart over these few weeks (due to my recent infatuation with New York), I guess I kinda hoped maybe whatever we had going on would become more casual and friend-like. I am such a chicken when it comes to breaking it off.

After Murray, it had been so long since I’ve been single. My past breakups have mostly been with guys I’d been in serious relationships with. While BE and I did our thing for four months, we were never serious. I kinda . . . don’t know HOW to end it, you know?

So after several impersonal voice mails, imagine my surprise when I get a message at around 10:30 p.m. (past BE’s bedtime!) from BE, mentioning that his young niece and nephew are visiting this weekend (his sister’s children, whom I’ve never met) and basically invited me to meet them.

WTF?

He’s actually ASKING ME TO DO SOMETHING?

WITH HIS FAMILY?

SEVERAL DAYS IN ADVANCE?

Thanks, BE. Thanks for making this REALLY AWKWARD for me.

(I know this is my own fault. Sarcasm is being used here.)

I get that he’s realizing he’s going to have to try harder to keep me around. I get that he realizes he’s messed up and that when people are dating, they actually MAKE PLANS together, rather than just expecting the other person to be available at any given moment. I get that.

But now I have to give him an answer. I am really, really dreading this part. I don’t want to hurt him, but he also deserves an explanation if I turn him down. Feh. I’m going to have to figure something out. UGGGGGHHHH, the situations I get myself into.

In the meantime, I have yet ANOTHER dilemma.

My office is having a Christmas party next week, on a Tuesday. Booze will be involved. Not relevant to my dilemma, but I thought it should be mentioned anyway because, HELLO, FREE BOOZE.

My dilemma is this:

To go alone? Or invite someone?

Here are the logistics of the situation.

Cases FOR inviting New York:

• New York knows my work is having a soiree, because it came up in conversation. I could sense interest in his voice, but he never brought up the subject again. So it’s not like I can just pretend it doesn’t exist. I might hurt his feelings if I don’t invite him, since he is aware of it.
• It will be a good way to show him that I’m interested (because BOY AM I INTERESTED).
• It will be a good excuse for me to see him, and I’ll get to see him dressed up all sexy-like.

Cases AGAINST inviting New York:

• Did I mention I live in a small town? My co-workers are NOSY, and I would not be able to bring anyone without being the butt of office gossip for weeks to come. NY and I went to a basketball game the other night (I work at a college with a basketball team) and co-workers I barely know were asking me the next day if he was my boyfriend. How about NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, kthx. I am a private person (except for, you know, this blog where I expose pretty much EVERYTHING). I don’t want my bidness being on everyone’s lips.
• On that note, office Christmas parties are—to me, anyway—something you bring your BOYFRIEND to. I wouldn’t think you would bring someone you were casually dating, even if you were really into each other. NY and I have only been seeing each other for two weeks. We are not boyfriend and girlfriend.
• Rather than getting his feelings hurt if I DON’T invite him, on the flip side of the coin, NY may get FREAKED OUT if I DO invite him. “Oh my God, she wants me to go to a fancy work thing with her? Where I have to dress nice and pretend I give a shit? NO THANKS. NEXT.”

So, reader, what should I do?

Just call me a fun-sucker, I guess.

You’ve probably noticed I’ve tried to refrain from bitching about BE. Reasons being, I’m sure you’re all tired of hearing about it and many of you think I’m a foolish woman for continuing to see him.

I’m not disagreeing with you.

So here I am to bitch about BE again.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve probably noticed I’ve been complaining about my lack of sex. It’s been almost a week and a half since our last bump ‘n grind, and while I know that is not an extremely long time, my body is telling me HOLY HELL I NEED THE SAUSAGE AND I NEED IT NOW. Since we didn’t have sex this weekend, as our plans to spend Saturday night together changed due to the Incredible Shitting Man, I have been anxious to get back between the sheets with BE.

It started Sunday night. I called BE around 8:00 p.m. to see if he wanted to ‘hang out.’ He didn’t answer.

He called me the next night around 9:00 p.m. He explained that he’d fallen asleep on the couch the night before and didn’t wake up until 11:45 that night. A perfectly reasonable excuse, as sleeping is one of BE’s favorite pastimes. I knew since I was getting the phone call after 9:00 that there was no chance for sex, as he had to go to bed early for work the next day.

Last night (Tuesday), I made some delicious turkey chili in my slow cooker, so I called around 6:15 to ask him if he wanted to come over and have some with me, in hopes of bedding him later that night. Here’s how the conversation went.

BE: What’s up?
Me: Whatcha doing?
BE: Just got done working out.
Me: Oh. What are you about to do?
BE: Well, I’ve got to drop by a couple people’s houses, and . . . that’s about it.
Me: Oh. Well, I made some chili and I just wanted to see if you wanted to come eat some.
BE: Well actually, my brother’s in town, and we’re going to eat with the family. But I certainly appreciate it.
Me: OK then.
BE: Hey, can I call you back later?
Me: Yeah, bye.
BE: Bye.

First of all, why the eff didn’t he just say that in the first place? It felt like he was hiding something from me. “I’ve got to drop by a couple people’s houses.” What the fuck? Did he think I was going to try to invite myself to eat dinner with his family? I most certainly would not have.

When he asks what I’m doing, I always just SAY WHAT I AM DOING. Be it, watching a movie, hanging out with Claire, shaving my armpits, or plotting sweet, hairy revenge on a co-worker.

Also, is he ashamed of me? Does he not want to introduce me to his brother, for whatever reason?

When he pulls unneccessary crap like this, my immature side comes out in my brain and I think, well next time he asks what I’M doing, I’m just going to say, “I’ve got to go to a few people’s houses.” But I know that is a CHILDISH GAME and it will NOT solve anything. But I just get SO FRUSTRATED. What is so hard about being truthful?

BE, if you’re not going to admit that we’re dating, and if you won’t clear an hour from your entire week to bang my drum slowly, then DO NOT GET JEALOUS WHEN I TALK TO OTHER MEN.

You want me to stick around? THEN ACT LIKE YOU GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME.

He called back at 9:30 last night. I didn’t answer. He left a message.

Hey, I’m just headed home, getting ready to hang it up for the night. Call me back later. Bye.

I was having one of my hormonally-charged raging bitch moods last night, and when I heard that message I said out loud, “I’M HANGING IT UP FIRST. ASSHOLE.”

Of course, that was just the result of a little too much Cabernet Sauvignon and frustration that had been building for three hours. So I went to bed early and slept off my aggravation.

This morning, I asked Andy what he thought. He was equally confused, but he did offer this little nugget of wisdom.

You’re not looking to suck the fun out of his life… you just want to do crap with him.Guys… we have a tendency to think that women are trying to suck the fun out of everything.

Is this true? Do all men think this? Please, enlighten me.

A poll

OK freaders, I need your help. Regarding SoccerBoy. We’ve hung out a couple times in the last week and a half or so, but every time we hang out? We usually meet at a bar when we’ve both already been drinking. He is nice. Like, really nice. And funny. But I still just don’t know if I’m feelin’ it. He has either called or texted me at least once EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. in the past ten days or so. I don’t know if I like that so much. It’s good that he’s interested, but he seems a little too eager. I don’t always answer or respond, and I think he is getting agitated with that. On the other hand, I’m wondering if the way we keep meeting has something to do with my perception of him.

He tried to call me last night, but I didn’t answer because 1) I was watching a DVD of My So-Called Life and my remote doesn’t work so I can’t pause DVD’s (sucky, right?) and 2) I had no idea what he was going to want to talk about and I was scared to death he wanted to ask me on a date.

So just a few minutes I got this text from him, and I am having trouble deciding how to respond:

Hey i tried to call you yesterday and see if you wanted to get up some time this week but you must of been busy. I have your cd if you want it

I don’t care about getting the CD back, for the record. I have it on my iPod and it was a burned copy that he has.

So what should I do? Should I agree to meet him for drinks (just one or two! No getting drunk!) for happy hour somewhere after work so it’s not really like a “date” and give him one last chance before I give him the boot? Or should I just grow a pair and tell him I’m not interested, end of story?

I don’t want to lead him on, but I also want to make sure he’s not right for me before I send him packing. I want to give him a fair shot, and if we meet up in the light of day while we’re both in a more sober state of mind I might be able to get a better sense of who he is.

So . . .