but wait, there’s more

after my post yesterday, my friend and i went downtown to an alumni event for a very yuppie, east coast university we both attended. i was swimming in men wearing dockers and button-downs with Mai Tais in their hands. fortunately, i hadn’t banked on their being hot, eligible men there, but it was still disappointing nonetheless that there really weren’t any (save for one or two who could have been if i really needed them to be). i was in the midst of idle chatter with people i didn’t know when my phone rang. i looked at it, didn’t recognize the out-of-state number and figured it was (again) one of those crazy solicitors i get who call me from random states (to throw me off their scent, i suppose). so i answered and immediately hung up because i didn’t even want to bother having a voicemail from them.

but then…it hit me. missouri? wait. i know someone who is in missouri…could it be? did he just call me? maybe? holy shit. and i hung up on him! i excused myself and hurried outside where i would actually be able to hear. i redialed the number only to be greeted with a message from sprint about how they were “redirecting my call to customer service.” i hung up and tried again. again with the customer service shit. gotdamnit, sprint. i know there’s probably a bill due, and you want your money, but this shit is important. furthermore, i’m still on the family plan, so you need to direct your billing inquiries and scare tactics to my mom…that’s right, my mom.

i ran back inside, asked my friend for her phone and tried again, hoping that the jersey number that was about to appear on his caller id wouldn’t prevent him from answering. if it was in fact him…it totally just could have been the wrong number…
a woman answered. damn.

“hello?”
“hi. did someone just call me?”
“who is this?” (said in a tone that read, “skank, why are you calling my house? i will cut you.” personally, i hate when people call and ask “did someone just call me?”. obviously, if you don’t know the number and they didn’t leave a message, it was the wrong number or it wasn’t that important. however, in this situation, it WAS that important.)
i gave her my name in my most pleasant voice. after all, if this DID turn out to be his mother, i didn’t want to start out with her hating me. though, i had the feeling she already did. i checked the time and added two hours. it wasn’t THAT late. but maybe she goes to bed super early, i thought, and i just woke her up. i felt very high school and feared i was about to get in trouble. there was a dropping of the phone, some rustling, indecipherable speech, a clicking of lines…all the while, i’m just waiting for her to come back and declare, “hell no, nobody called you. and do you know what time it is, young lady?”

but that didn’t happen. instead, the boy appeared on the other end. like magic. and i was delighted. and we TALKED. i did do the right thing by mentioning that i was at an event downtown (you know the whole “sound busy” thing that everyone tells you to do), but then i stood on the sidewalk for the next half an hour and talked to him so clearly i wasn’t that damn busy. we talked about him, we talked about me, about fantasy football, and the weather, and food, and animals…

i can safely say, with no neuroses and no second guesses, that this conversation was normal. deliciously normal and fun, and i feel, truly feel, that everything might actually be okay. i know exactly when he’s returning, he mentioned seeing my new place and making dinner, blah blah…so everything really, really might be fine. and i might not have to be a spaz anymore (notice i inserted might into all these statements). but honestly, for the first time in a month, i feel like i can exhale and nothing is going to fall apart.

i am thankful for small miracles, L.A.