How should I refer to to the current form of male species giving me a headache and a stomach ache and a craving for chocolate? I think I will call him Computer Geek. Either CG has an aversion to the phone, an aversion to a relationship, or does not appreciate the benefits of getting laid regularly. What started out as an attempt to have dinner and distract myself from 1-year Boyfriend moving out of our apartment has resulted in days and weekends immersed in "Why hasn't he called me?" angst. Roomate (let's call him R) suggestion: "He hates the phone." Now I understand a dislike for the phone: the mere thought of scrolling to someone's name and hitting the green call button has made me hyperventilate, hop on one foot, and chain smoke. HOWEVER. WTF?
CG and I have been dating/seeing each other/hanging out for over a month. This consists of one or two phone calls/week leading to one or two dinners+ fooling around but never staying over each other's place. Friday, I did what all others warned me against: I slept with the guy. Now: he's not that cute, not that funny, and not that rich. And may I add...during our little romp, my mind wandered to what book I was planning to read next.
Me: "I never expected to develop feelings for you."
CG: "Sometimes the best things in life happen when you least expect them to."
Me: "Do you?"
CG: "Do I what?"
Pause.
CG: "Do I have feelings for you?"
Nod.
CG: "Well, I enjoy being around you." Blah blah blah I'm a happy-go-lucky nothing can make me worried or upset kind of guy. "So...I guess...yeah, I do."
Me: "It would be nice to hear from you more." Call me you idiot! And not once every 5 days!
CG: "Ok. I'll call you tomorrow."
Tomorrow (Saturday) comes with a message from CG around 11 pm, listing what he did and what he plans to do. Basically, a non message. My R in a funk informs me nothing can make me happy.
Sunday
I have a date with a very nice soccer player who resembles a much shorter and much skinnier version of his online profile. Granted: I am a much larger version of my profile (I don't lie about my model height though! Although I guess I fail to mention I lack a model weight as well). Soccer Player is nice enough. Either very shy, not good at dating, or completely self-absorbed, as does not ask one single substantial question about me. Good move, really, when you are trying to engage a girl in a conversation. I walk back to my car, check my phone. I already know: No missed calls, no texts. I guess "I wouldn't mind hearing more from you" has been translated into I better call her tomorrow so she doesn't think I am one of those guys who sleeps with a girl then doesn't call her the next day!
Against my better judgment, I call CG (I know I know!). And enter: awkward conversation about our weekends, how hot today is, blah blah blah. My pathetic attempt to throw in hints about how much I would like a pool or how relaxing his hot tub is. His answer of "Um, I think I'm just going to stick with basketball today. Maybe I'll go in the tub later." Wha? Huh? Do you not want to get laid again?! CG: "Later." Me: Fuck you, fuck computer engineers, fuck the male species.
Humph.
Did I just ruin my future chances with that one silly phone call? Why am I so paranoid and afraid of failure and...well, paranoid? Why can't I casually date?
I think I will go watch my R in a Funk play video games some more...
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