A couple of weeks ago, my phone rang at 2am on a Saturday night. Having been fast asleep, I was understandably alarmed and disoriented. Doesn't a phone call at 2am mean somebody is in the hospital?
But no. To my surprise, I saw that it was the "I insist I'm not flirting with you while I am blatantly flirting with you in strangely entertaining 7th grade manner" football coach. Who I probably hadn't heard from since this time last year, the season when our paths usually cross for coaching stuff.
Really? That guy? 2am?! I let the call go to voice mail and went back to sleep laughing. Wondering where that came from.
I texted him the next day to ask if the call was an accident or perhaps an end-of-evening attempt to procure female attention, a.k.a. good old fashioned booty call. He responded neither confirming nor denying his intentions. That led to a series of familiarly maddening flirtatious exchanges, during which he again vehemently denied any mutual attraction - even when I very astutely pointed out that if we were in first grade, he would have just pulled my hair and ran away. Hey, you called me, buddy!
So the next weekend when the phone rang late at night, I started laughing before I even saw who it was. Then I accidentally answered the phone while trying to text him to go away. Which led to a hilarious conversation. Which may have lead to him talking his way over to my house... Sorry, curiosity won out. And I was determined to prove that I was right.
And of course he made a move. HA! You don't need to hear the rest of the gory details. But rest assured that I conducted myself like a lady and sent him on his way. Eventually.
I'm still surprised I let that happen. Completely ridiculous. Fun as the banter might be, he is nowhere near what I am looking for. And it was obvious what he was looking for. But strangely enjoyable. For an evening. Chemistry experiment. Living in the moment.
A girl has the right to amuse herself in the meantime, right?!
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