Maybe I’ll be here. Maybe I’ll see ya around. That’s the way it goes. Almost doesn’t count. -Brandy “Almost Doesn’t Count”
  I have a love/hate relationship with private calls. I hate them because I don’t know who’s calling (obviously) so I can’t call that person back. But I love them because it becomes a sort of mystery. No one’s number is blocked nowadays, so whoever is making the effort to block their number and call me has to be doing it for a reason. This is when you dust off the mental Rolodex and thumb through the possibilities. And they’re endless aren’t they? Really though, you just hope it’s  _________. & you hope that they’ll call back while you’re there to answer all to see if you were right. I finally picked up & this is what happened:

          “Hello?”
          “Hey,” says a voice I didn’t recognize.
          “umm… Hi?”
…Silence…
          “Hey? umm… [Ella]?”
          “Yes…. Who is this?”
          “CJ..”
          “Ummm…. who?”
          “CJ.”
…Silence… I guess he thought I hadn’t heard him, but in reality, the name didn’t ring not one bell.
          “CJ…”
…Silence…
          We went out a while ago?”
…Silence…
          “Tall?”
…Silence…
          “We went to the movies?”
…Silence…
          “I picked you up?”
          “Ohhh!!! Hi…” Now I knew who this fool was. I literally LOL’d as I thought, Why in the hell is he calling me? I  wouldn’t call me. 
          “Hey… umm how are you?” he continued to embarrass himself.
          “I’m good.”
…Silence…
          “So umm, how’ve you been? What have you been up to?”
          “Umm, Actually I”m at work right now so I can’t talk.”
          “Oh. Okay. Can I call you later? Like, tonight? Is that okay? Or tomorrow?”
          “That’s fine, but I’m at work right now I really have to go.”
          “So like, when… like what time? Tonight?”
          “I really don’t know. I have to go.”
          “Ok.”

    That’s who’s been calling me private? *sigh*  What a disappointment. I mean… he’s not the last guy who took me out. He’s not even the second-to-last guy… or third-to-last guy… I mean… god.  I never wanted to talk to this kid again. Not for any particular reason except that he was one of the lamest guy’s I’d ever had the burden of entertaining. The date was terrible. I mean, so terrible I forgot how terrible it was. I tried to look back in my posts to see if I had mentioned him… and low-and-behold, the date was SO BAD, I wrote the post “Worst Date Ever” when I got home. 
      Men have to know there’s an expiration date on my phone number. The first reason is because you can’t just call me up when you get bored. Do you really think that after months of not speaking, I’d still be interested? Really, it all depends on the chemistry between us. If we sort of… fell off, then sure.  You can call. I might even want you to call. But if you took me out on one date and couldn’t get me to pick up your phone calls after that, it’s expired, pal.  Secondly, as a man, you should preserve your pride. That post was written on July 27th, 2010. Which means that this Saturday will be the four month anniversary of me not liking him.

      You never get the phone call you’re waiting for. The one you daydream about where he confesses that he fell in love with you, too and that you should just give it a try. He’ll do anything if only you’ll be his and only his. I know that only happens in the magical world of Disney but my wish to be someone’s princess is so strong it’s almost tangible. Day after day I live this Cinderella story and I just keep waiting and waiting for the ball. But no one ever announces the date.  No one even mentions it around me. I spend my days laboring in solitude. Hoping. Wishing.

    I was so disappointed with that phone call. When he called back at 11:15pm that night (twice), I could only feel anger. Anger that the one I want doesn’t want me. Another case of “The One That Got Away,” I suppose.

     How long will I sit and wait for his call? Because no matter how much I lie to myself and pretend that I don’t think about him, he infiltrates my thoughts. He owns them. He walks through my mind as if he owns the place. Unlike anyone else though, I allow him to. He makes me smile in the middle of the day and doesn’t know it. He soothes me to sleep during lonely nights. & When I think of him, he makes me heart beat. Now I don’t really know what I’m feeling and this can be the lust you feel for any guy who’s a the top of your list. If you Ellas are anything like me, the list changes in a moment’s notice. I might hate him next week. It’s possible. But… At least I have someone to think of, even if he’s not thinking of me.

    I’ve been reading Eat, Pray, Love for about two months now. Simply because I have to be in the same place as she is to get through the book. I have to be able to mentally connect. I came across a part where the author and a friend are talking about soul mates (the author can’t stop thinking about her ex because she thought he was “the one”) which is funny because I just wrote the post “Does Everyone Get a Soul Mate?” a little over a week ago. The friend goes on to explain “people think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. A true soulmate it a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back,t he person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too Painful. Soul mates, they come into your lief just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can’t let this one go. It’s over…” (149)

       I hate it when books speak to me. But I love when books speak to me. _________ did show me another part of myself. He showed me that I can care. That I can be faithful. That I can be trusted. That I can be a woman. He’s not the only one who’s shown me myself though. Maybe I was meant to meet all the men I’ve dealth with because I’ve surely learned from all of them (and they’re all out of my life). Life is supposed to just happen. Maybe love is supposed to just happen, too. Maybe it’s not meant to last. But we chase  it with fervor and without regard to anything else. It envelops us. Maybe I should be grateful for the little bit of time we had and not dwell on it so much… Maybe I should realize that __________’s number might have an expiration date, too.

(Then comes in the evil thoughts…)

But what if it doesn’t? What if I’m wrong? What if he wants me like I want him but he’s too afraid that I don’t like him? What if I’m pushing him away? What if he finds someone else? What if I’m too late? But if he really liked me he would call right? So he can’t like me. But he had to like me. I know he liked me because…. I just know. But what if he didn’t? And I’m sitting here thinking about him while he’s going about his day running up I all those sleazy girls that comment on his Facebook pictures…& they sleazy. I know because I checked each profile that wasn’t private. & I know I’m not the only one who does this… i just want to make sure he doesn’t… love anyone. That’s there’s still a chance. That maybe one day in some crazy sort of happenstance, we might run into each other and try again. That maybe he might be looking at my page too & when I put up a new profile picture, I wonder what he thinks of it.  I wonder… I wonder…. a lot. Often. Too, often.

fucckk.