July 11th, 2009

Sports Car Guy calls; I don’t pick up. I’ve just sent Monty an e-mail and don’t want to talk to anyone else, don’t want to destroy the mood. It’s all about The Mood and we’ve got a smooth mood going here, almost as smooth as I imagine the ride in Sports Car Guy’s Porsche, but with none of the slickness.

Our thing is untranslatable in that way silly romantic talk simply doesn’t come across to anyone but the participants. His e-mails are I miss you I’d like you here now I want to and more. The messages he leaves on my cell are along the lines of: I like the way your mind works. You make me smile. I miss you.

The previous week when Sports Car Guy canceled, I called Monty to get together, but didn’t hear from him until much too late in the day.

“I’ve been robbed,” he says immediately when I answer the phone.

“What?” Robbed? He’s been robbed?

“I was working outside all afternoon with a buddy,” he explains. “Didn’t hear my cell. I would rather have been with you.” He laughs. “So, you see? I was robbed.” And so I hang up the phone, evaporating in the haze of his warmth and his wanting to see me.

Maybe I’ll invite him to dinner.

*****

The next day, Sports Car Guy leaves a message on my cell, friendly enough. He is going into a meeting, so I can’t return the call, but he’ll call tomorrow. He’s keeping in touch and that’s a nice touch in itself, a surprise. I’ve pegged him for a guy who needs to be assured of getting his investment back and I wonder how he’ll react to my weekend unavailability, assuming he is calling to ask me out.

I remind myself of a few little truths I’ve learned, more of my penchant for reading between the lines:

1. If he tells me he is not a planner, I don’t have to react. At all. Best to avoid being on the defensive.

2. He isn’t reliable. First, not phoning when he said he would. Then being over-casual about canceling our planned date.

3. I don’t have to accept any of his invitations. This goes along with reminding myself that I am an adult and can do whatever I like.

4. I don’t have to *announce* my business, that I have family coming this weekend. I am busy, that’s all.

5. I have met this man once. Once. If I have this much crap to mull over in my head, then *things* aren’t going well. They won’t improve.

*****

I call Monty on the way home from my dance lesson and later, in front of the computer, with him still on the phone egging me on, I check his e-mails. There are three. I am having fun, such fun. His e-mails are provocative, playful, full of longing. For me. It smacks of infatuation, not that that’s a bad thing—but I don’t know this man.

I must keep this in mind: When it comes to courtship, never ever believe a word the man says. Believe only his actions.