A Walk on the Red Carpet

As the day goes on, Mac quiets down. Craig is silent. Scott texts a few times.

Does anyone else worry that someday they will send the wrong text to the wrong person?

I can see it now. A baffling text erroneously sent to Craig about NY or Miami plans.  A misguided note to Mac intended for Scott asking about the dogs. A foul ball text to Scott remarking about an inside story only Craig would understand.

This is not my MO.  I am a one man woman.  I make my mistakes one man at a time.  Now the potential for error has exponentially expanded. I am doomed from the start.

But Scott and I carry on a lovely conversation about J.'s girls. It is nice that he's even interested. He'd never met them.  But kids are special when their parents are or were special to you, so whose womb they actually flew out of tends not to matter.

And later, as the Oscar buzz is hitting a fever pitch, I pour a glass of wine, take a seat on the sofa next to Hil and watch the Red Carpet pageantry unfold.

This is where Facebook and texting hit their stride. The banter on Facebook is immediate and spot on. It is like being there with your friends and having sidebar conversations. Realtime.  This would never have happened before the advent of the social network.

And at the same time, Mac is texting. He's sitting watching the Red Carpet with his sister and niece. It strikes me as a very tender thing to do.  I am sure Mac is not big on fashion. But he does have some very sweet things to say (and very respectful things, I might add...) about some of my faves.  Anne Hathaway melts his heart. He loved Charlize Theron's new short do.  He things Renee Zellweger is adorable and has a knockout figure.  He likes Hallie Berry's dress (I didn't.)

And during the Oscars show itself, he had thoughtful comments about some of the movies and some of the skits (though he missed "We Saw Your Boobs" which is just criminal to have been deprived of). 

I am actually starting to think I could like him. 

He then asks me to turn on a computer (I take to the iPad) so he could show me a few hotel choices.  He seems to know what he is talking about and I am thrilled that he's even planning.

But still, I am not about to start packing a bag. 

There is something that tells me this is all a smoke screen.

A leopard rarely changes his spots. Seven years could have resulted in a lot of changes (including baldness and obesity, which remain to be seen.)  but a complete transformation? Not likely.

We end the evening of chatting with him asking if he can take me to lunch one day this week. He'd like to see me so our big weekend adventure is not the first time he sees me.

I am flattered. I am cautious. I am agreeable. I am in big trouble. Lunch will be my big walk on the red carpet.