Monday, July 11, 2011
As I am driving home near seconds away from the house, I hear my phone buzz. Must be a text message from $28 Worth. Either that or my best friend checking in on me to ensure I am indeed still alive and not crumpled up in the back of some psycho’s car trunk on the way to wooded levy (Me, paranoid? Nah).
Phone buzzes again. It’s him.
Hey, had a blast tonight, was great to finally meet up in person.
I pondered. I hadn’t realized the time when we left the wine bar. I peered over to the clock in my car and the time was only 11:37. I pulled into the driveway and thunked hard about my next strategic text back. Do I politely agree with him and thank him for a great evening as well? Do I wait a few minutes to keep him on pins and needles? Gawd, how I loath the early stages of dating. After careful consideration and a surmountable level of liquid confidence running through my blood stream (legal limits, of course), I texted him back.
What if I wasn’t ready for the night to end?
Oh no!!!! I immediately regretted my text response decision. Did I come across too forward? Did I look desperate? Did I make myself seem like a lush? What if he didn’t respond? What if he politely sent back some ambiguous response? Why did I send that? I start to gather my purse and march toward my back door feeling anxious and defeated. And as I was unlocking the back door eager to greet The Natives, my purse starts buzzing at me.
The night is still young.
And, so I quietly closed the back door and snuck back into the evening before awaking The Natives and left them to sleep comfortably among dreams of bones, doghouses and hunting squirrels in the backyard.