Write Again Soon

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September 22, 2006

A Second Date and the Drama Ensues

After MD1 (Magical Date #1) with Mr. Bethesda on Sunday, we met up again on Monday night. He came over to my place, I cooked dinner, and we proceeded to pick up where we left off the night before. It was all quite delightful, and I have a feeling that this man might have skillz that put even Mr. FWB to shame. At the end of MD2, we compared schedules and decided that this weekend was the next opportunity to get together.

All fine and dandy, right? Well, dear reader, the course of true love n'er did run smooth. Or something like that.

The next day I gave Mr. Bethesda a quick call and got his voicemail. I left a message and went about my day, discovering in the meantime that while Mr. FWB does now officially have a girlfriend, he has permission from her to have threesomes with other people. That is one open-minded girl.

But I digress.

I didn't hear back from Mr. Bethesda on Tuesday afternoon, which was no big deal since I knew he's busy and I have my own life, you know? Not that I'm defensive or anything. That night, feeling a little precocious, I sent an innuendo-filled email (ok, there was no subtlety involved at all), thinking that it will surely elicit a response.

Nothing.

On Wednesday, I was up in NYC for the day—spending a solid 3 hours on the train up to Penn Station, standing in a taxi line for 25 minutes only to be kicked out of my cab before it even leaves the curb because the location I'm seeking is blocked off (stupid President Bush's visit to the UN General Assembly closed the area), schlepping another 25 minutes and at least a mile in 4-inch heels and a very formal business suit through the city's public transit system, only to have a 23-minute interview and be sent merrily on my way. The interview actually went great, but after struggling through the teeming masses to get there, I was a little surprised to be sent packing in less than half an hour. Unfortunately, Ms. NYC Rouge couldn't escape the office for a little rendezvous, so I slogged back to Penn Station and caught an afternoon train back to D.C. Once there (and by "there" I mean: arrived at Union Station, hopped on the metro to Bethesda, and walked the half mile back to my house), I shed my formal clothes, examined the three rather large and unappealing blisters on my feet, watched a little television, and went back into D.C. to play my first fall-league softball game. We won, of course.

And STILL NOTHING.

On Thursday, I had a completely full day planned, and between new Big Idea contracts, meeting with my Big Idea designer, and an evening networking event, I was exhausted. But not too exhausted to check my voicemail every 7 minutes to see if I had missed Mr. Bethesda's call even though I had set my ringer to *extra loud so you don't miss the call that we all know is never going to come because let's facit it you are going to be single forever and die a cold and shriveled shrew*. If you aren't familiar with that setting, it's the one past *extra loud but not quite to the point where you embarrass others by publicly flaunting your desperation*.

Getting irritated by my growing franticness (it's a word, I looked it up) at the situation, I took it upon myself to line up a series of dates for this weekend. Now, any sane person would look at my schedule for the next six weeks and STRONGLY ADVISE that I seek psychiatric help, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. So now I have a date with New Boy #1 on Saturday, and New Boy #2 on Sunday (well, we're in the final stages of planning, but it looks good…). If Mr. Bethesda calls back (and why oh why hasn't he called back when he was practically panting at the end of MD2?) there are still a few places I could squeeze him into the schedule, but if he doesn't then at least I'm not sitting around like a dope.

So now it's Friday, and I've given Mr. Bethesda one last shot: I called and left a voicemail around lunchtime. Now, at 5 p.m. that call has not been returned, and I'm ready to write him off completely. Or take him back with open arms and promise to never complain about his lack of communication again. Very Bridget Jones of me, I know.

So dear reader, now is the time for you to chime in—please choose one of the following options and note your preference in the comments:

1. Relax! Ms. Write Again Soon, you know that Mr. Bethesda has a crazy hectic schedule and it's likely that he hasn't called—not because he doesn't like you (remember the panting?)—but because he doesn't want to call unless he has time to talk. He was very explicit that he wanted to get together this weekend, and he's sure to call soon. After all, he stated several times during MD1 and MD2 that he doesn't play games and wants to avoid all the relationship drama that goes with new dating experiences.

2. Hmm, Ms. Write Again Soon, this behavior is definitely suspect. He should know that returning a girl's call is important, even if he doesn't have a lot of time to chat. On the other hand, he MAY have a good explanation, so don't write him off completely. But good for keeping your options open with NB1 and NB2!

3. Oh, Ms. Write Again Soon, can you not see the writing on the wall? This guy is Just Not That Into You. Even if he was totally enthusiastic on Monday, it's now Friday and things have obviously changed. It's best to forget him as quickly as possible. Turn your cell phone back to a normal volume and move on.

Another thought: Mr. Bethesda has proved uncannily able to find out things about me...and so it would be highly amusing if he discovered this blog and would condescend to post his opinion for all to see. Or maybe not that amusing, depending on his comments.

Comments

Posted by: La at September 22, 2006 06:45 PM

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