It’s a dangerous thing to want to understand how another person thinks. Eventually, you’re bound to find cases that only disappoint you. You pray they’ll come to fruition and make you happy, but that is not something always within your control.
‘Twas a pretty big deal to finally ask for that number. It was a grand evening when I finally got it from you. Yeasayer’s “Ambling Alp” totally hit the spot on that drive home.
I was even flattered when you told me you were glad that I called the following evening, despite me completely stumbling over my own words, trying to acknowledge that. I’m not good at this getting-a-number act, followed by the asking-out-on-a-date thing. It is a foreign concept to me, but this felt reassuring. This felt good. Promising.
You told me you’d call in a couple days. Most of a week later, I ran into you at work and you apologized a couple of times and said that you would call again.
The following weekend, I checked in again since I still haven’t heard from you.
Apologetic text, insisting again would call.
Over three weeks later, I’m clueless over what has happened. Maybe I just haven’t waited long enough. But even the over-analyzing part of my head says that’s hardly the case.
Maybe you’ve just forgotten about me. I’m not that striking at a first glance. It’s entirely possible.
Regardless, I’ll try one last time. One last call. It sounded like you genuinely were interested in that singular call, even with the subsequent apologies. I’ll propose what I had been hoping to ask you, had you called. Shit, I’m not even sure if you’re interested in listening to the Buffalo Philharmonic. But I haven’t had the chance to ask yet.
I might as well be asking this to an empty room. In retrospect, maybe I have been the whole time…