So once again I reached out. I told this man I would be in his town over the weekend. He replied that I should let him know where I would be hanging out. The logical side of me knew that he was blowing me off when he didn't make definitive plans but the teenage girl side of me was thrilled that he would consider meeting me out. So night one, and I texted to let him know where I was. He debated. He hemmed. He hawed. I found some pride and told him to forget it, I was leaving. I was sad.
A couple nights passed. I thought about him. A lot. I really have a problem and probably need to see some one. Not a professional but another man. But since that is not happening, I will obsess some more.
Last night of the weekend and again I found myself going out with some friends and texting him and telling where we would be. He asked who was there. I responded. He said he was coming over. Butterflies. I had butterflies in my stomach. What the hell is wrong with me? He is not butterfly worthy. My good and kind friend made sure there was an empty seat right next to me. She did this even though I know she thinks I am completely mad for obsessing over this man. And then he was there. He said his hellos, looked directly at the seat next to me and moved on. Yes, he moved on. Away from me.
So for the next hour he spoke to everyone but me. He didn't even look at me. I felt like
And then the evening was over. We all made our way to the door. We said our goodbyes. He lingered. I lingered. I wondered if he was lingering on purpose or just felt some weird obligation to to hang back with me. We chatted very briefly. I hugged him goodbye. I resisted to urge to tell him I love him. I drove home.
Now any logical,
I should move. I should let him go. I should wise up. But I can't. Because after all I am 42 and single.