Hello, I Must Be Going

Days go by. I send one last ditch text.  Tell him that I miss chatting and hope he is well.

A day goes by and I get a text. One text. It explains a lot, but not enough. I give him a pass but still, it nags at me that he's not at least just sending a quick hello.  How busy can he be?  It speaks volumes about where I fall in the pecking order of priorities.  Some priorities I understand. Others may be more problematic.

A week goes by. It is the weekend again.  I decide not to be a fool and pine over something that all indications say has run its course. I need to push myself to move on. I consider my options.

Scott? Not. We've been over this...

Find someone new?  Harder than it sounds. And there is no way I am doing the online dating thing.

Consider someone old. Not older, just from the past. I rifle through the Rolodex in my brain, reviewing and discarding almost everyone in the pile. 

I review my Facebook friend list for hidden gems. Zippity doo-dah.

And then Jackie's husband puts something on Facebook that reminds me - Mac!

Mac was the dude I went on a few ill-fated dates with when I was newly separated. Still so newly separated that the ink on the file wasn't dry, and sadly, I was still living under the same roof with Lars. (Which really cramps one's dating style, I might add.) He was larger than life...too large for my life at the time. Big personality. Large and in charge. I needed sweet and tender and nurturing at the time. Hence, my attraction to J. made sense.

But I am much more confident now. He was entirely too much for me then, but I have a lot more gumption now. And in spite of all his big-ass arrogance, I do remember being attracted to him.

But he was given my number by Jackie's husband before Christmas. All the high holidays with gift requirements have passed and he still hasn't called.  Maybe he has someone in his life?  Or maybe he is a big chicken?

I text Jackie's hubby.  "Tell your friend Mac he is a big, fat chicken. I can hear him clucking from here."

He texts right back. "Do you want him to call you?"

"Well, I'd answer the phone..."

"Booty call!!!"

"Ha ha. You're hilarious. This is not a booty call. I am bored and he's entertaining."

I get a text from Mac ten minutes later. "Hello, Liza. Shall we try again?"