Nerds.
Remember when I mentioned that there is no room for harboring jealousy? I had a couple beers with a girlfriend from out of town on Saturday. After about three hours of heavy talking, she had convinced me of Britton.
“A guy doesn’t just ‘come back’without a good reason,” she told me. “And based on the numerous dates and chemistry, it’s obvious where he’s planning on going.”
Perhaps she’s right.
“So then tell him,” she went on, “something like, ‘hey, I think I could consider being serious with you.”
“And then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“He will look at me with a blank face,” I said with a laugh. “We’re talking about dudes here, not girls. Girls would get that saying something like that should have a response. You can’t expect so much with guys.”
“No, he will.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then at least you’ll have given him some warmth from your cold heart.”
It’s a lot to take it, I thought, especially seeing as this conversation wouldn’t happen for another week or so at the very earliest.
I got home from a birthday party that evening for another friend. I sat in the car and, having deactivated my Facebook account, had no real way of reminiscing over his photos.
Maybe it was the margaritas. Maybe it was the apparent loneliness you feel at 10pm on a Saturday in the middle of the woods.
“I miss your face,” I sent him over SnapChat.
After no response, and not really caring to do the math as to what time it was there--he was probably out touring anyway--I went to sleep.
That night, I woke up three different times and looked at my phone for notification on the home screen of his response. Nothing.
When I finally got up on Sunday, I had a Snap from another friend. His response was sitting underneath hers, waiting. He had sent it right as I was going to bed.
“Haha. Yeah? How was your week?”
Not what I was looking for.
We didn’t talk much, but that was okay. I needed to move on anyway and add a few bricks to the walls around me while I was at it.
I got a text:
“I’m excited to tell you all of my stories when I get back.”
I didn’t think anything of it. Instead, I snapped a scene from Downton Abbey giving a nod to Evelyn Waugh’s Vile Bodies.
He responded: “Downton Abby, huh?”
I laughed. Of all the guys, Britton is a guy’s guy. He’s the kind who would have been the nice, funny guy in a fraternity. And maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t, but he could play the part.
“How’d you know?”
“I watched it until the 4th season. It’s an interesting show, I have to admit.”
“I’m trying to finish it off so I can move on to other shows. I considered watching Star Wars while you were away so I wouldn’t be the worst person ever anymore, but then I thought, ‘What’s the fun in that?’”
“What do you think about watching Star Wars on Saturday if I won’t be in family hot water?”
“I think that sounds lovely. I’ll be sure to bring my pocket protectors and head gear.”
“And I’ll be sure to not bring out my card collection. We’ll just watch the movie.”
“Wait, wait, wait. You’ve a card collection? I’m about 87% positive you’re nerdier than I am, and it’s starting to feel like a competition.”
After a little more banter, he sent me texts of his swank hotel room for the last two days... with a giant tub.
“That tub though!”
“I know, right?!”
At this point, I hope he has time to enjoy that and let me know how it goes.
So maybe the beer-drinking girlfriend was right. I’d of been the last lady he saw before his trip and the first to see him after. If that doesn’t mean something, I’m a bad judge of dating.
And now we wait for Saturday.
