Monday, August 3, 2009
The fish in the sea are swimming belly up.
I tried to contact the next guy sent to me by the dating service. I got his name right after July 4th. I hadn't gone to dinner with the end of May fellow yet. We all know how that went. He has not contacted me since July 11th and I have no idea where I put his phone number so it's win-win.
My first attempt with selection number 16 was on the 19th. I called and got a "This number has been disconnected" message. Ohhhh-kay. I waited 15 minutes and called again. Must have dialed it wrong because it starts ringing and continues ringing and ringing and ringing. I don't know the number of rings before I ended the call. I waited 90 minutes and called again. Same thing, only this time, I counted. I figured 10 rings with no answer is sufficient.
I would have tried that next week but Rascal passed away and my mind isn't in the mood to make small talk with someone I don't know. I waited until the 26th and called him again. Ring, ring, ring. I hung up, looked at the phone and dialed, very slowly. I'm beginning to wonder if I have the right phone number. Could I be consistently transposing a number when I dial? Oh! What's this? A busy signal? Well, that's more positive than empty rings. I'll just call back in an hour and then I forgot.
I tried to call on Wednesday of last week. It rang 4 times and a man's voice answered. I said, "Hi! I'm looking for Marc. My name is Deb Montague and I'm calling from The Right One." Click.
I sat in the chair in the office and looked at the phone in my hand. There have been a lot of firsts in this dating madness and this is one of them. I didn't even know how to react. Was I calling the right number? I was ever so precise in pushing the keys. If it was the right person, was he screening calls and, because he didn't know my phone number, not picking up? Who doesn't have a voice mail box set up in this day and age? According to the rules of the contract you signed when you joined, you must agree to at least talk on the phone with the person whose name you have received. Even if I knew, up front, that the match was terrible, I went to dinner or coffee with the guy. Has this new name met someone and is in avoidance mode or have they, like me, struck out so many times with this place that they figure what's the use?
"There are plenty of fish in the sea." I'm not sure anymore. Haven't certain fish stocks crashed? "You have to kiss a lot frogs before you find your prince." Yeah, well, you have to find the frogs to kiss first. I think global warming has decreased their ponds and I'm not interested in wandering into the stagnant swamps currently available.
So, I'm giving up. Officially. You read it here, folks. Nothing to see. Move along smartly. When you can't even find a guy you'd like to hang around with, you realize there are worse things than going to movies and concerts alone.
I don't have to laugh at lame jokes, be appalled at lifestyle choices I'd never make in a million years, or wonder if I'll have enough cash to cover the tip. I don't have to throw that one back or spend 20 minutes looking through my closet for just the "right" top. Yeah, for all my bluster about how my idea of fashion is "it's clean", I do spend time considering if I want to wear the tee shirt or the polo shirt.
Although I'm going to be lonely and studies show that married people live longer than single people, I'm going to stick with my imaginary boyfriend. He returns phone calls and picks up after himself, loves the cat and can make a really good chicken dinner.
I'm thinking my requirements of "walking upright and breathing" were too relaxed.
Beverage: Blackberry tea
Posted by Deb Montague at 9:22:00 AM
Labels: dating, imaginary friend, lonely, love, Rascal, The Right One
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