When you live the life of a hermit, communication skills generally become rather rudimentary. Mine usually ride the range of technology. I feel safe in the world of black and white blinking cursors. There, things are black and white. What I write is what I mean. If there is a suggestion of something deeper, it can be uncovered in the permanent pages. Face to face conversations, and (god forbid!) phone calls, make my life a living hell. Suddenly body language can tell a story that contrasts tone of voice. You can lose yourself not only in the juxtaposition of contradictions, but you may also lose the tried and true signs of attraction—signs which I recently sleuthed the Internet for. (A bit ridiculous? I was desperate. And I flirt like a broken faucet.)
I should have a button that says, “Don’t talk to me. I’m Awkward.” Someone better watch out.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Season 4 vii: Wah Waah

Setting: Geneva Terrace

I have officially completed my idiotically impatient act of the day. I am pretty consistent in these endeavors. And while I don't want my idiocy to be judged without the proper background on the impulsiveness that drives it, I am feeling a bit courageous, so I will share today's rash act.

I swear that a good thing is lost on me. I have no patience when it comes to the waiting game. I determine my feelings on things in quiet, over time, and when I know how and where I stand, I let it go. Everyone must know. And I expect all others to follow this same path of self awareness. I know that is unreasonable, impractical and untrue (somewhere deep down inside), but I refuse to acknowledge that part. I prefer to make myself miserable in romance by setting my expectations unreasonably high and getting upset when no one can meet them.

With Mr. Fourth Season, the waiting game has been even harder. I know he is going to be in my everyday life for a limited time only, and I am trying to cash in on the time I am able to spend with him. This is problematic because: 1. before January we didn't know each other; 2. he leaves Logan in under two weeks; 3. I am struggling between pushing him away so he can't break my heart and doing everything I can to get close to him (talk about mixed signals!); and 4. my impatience is at an all time low. Therefore, I have been on the verge of annoying all weekend. And I can't seem to stop. It's my phone's fault really. If it would just die, or stay in my car, or refuse to send texts, this would all be cleared up. But, it is steadfast on being right next to me, always within arms length of another flirt text. (I know... I am putting myself in a predicament when weekend communication is limited to texts, but the guy works 40 hours at school and another 12-15 on the weekends.) And I text him. Today it was under the guise of his brilliant coffee knowledge. I asked him if he could tell me where a shop with outdoor seating was "Because I didn't want to waste this day!" He didn't respond and I immediately began to berate myself for my impulsive behavior. I also realized that, without meaning to, I had implied I wanted him to come with. So, to cover my mistake and make matters worse, I sent a follow up text. "p.s. that wasn't an invite (you know LAX better), but you can treat it as one if you want."

Fortunately, he's at work.
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