Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Meeting People, Moving On

A few weeks ago I set up a nice evening tea with a female friend. Not a date, but an intimate conversation between two friends. I didn't expect anything to happen, but there was a bit of hope there, of course (please see earlier posts on how I feel about hope). I've been a wreck ever since.

The day of the rendezvous, the friend changes the terms. She had double-booked our tea and quizzo with another person. No problem - while I was sad we wouldn't get to catch up properly, it'd be nice to see her and meet her friend. After arriving late, it turned out that the person she brought was a guy she had mentioned previously who had a bit of an unrequited crush on her. No worries - I'm up for new friends.

Well, a short bit in, I asked her for a ride home, knowing she drove to the restaurant and that my journey home was inconvenient. That's when she dropped the bomb: the reason she chose this restaurant was because she was going over to the guy's place to stay the night. Our intimate tea had turned into a date, except I was a third wheel.

Had this just been dinner, I would have come up with some excuse to leave early. Unfortunately, we had already started playing quizzo (with a terrible quiz-master) and I was obligated to stay the whole time. Not sure what to do, and having a few beers in me, I started to flirt with the waitress pretty hard. To make a long story short, she was into it and I got her number.

The waitress and I were fast friends. At first, I thought a bit too fast - she found and friended me on Facebook before we even started texting. We hung out a couple days later and got along splendidly. I thought that maybe I'd found someone who was excited to be a part of my life and make me a part of theirs. Fast forward a few days and she's distant, doesn't text, and doesn't want to hang out. She doesn't say anything contrary, but trying to get her to talk is pulling teeth. A complete reversal of the first week. I've resolved not to contact her unless she contacts me.

I suppose that's what I get for letting a little hope get out of hand. I probably should have squashed that on that first evening; no hope means I wouldn't have set up the tea, which means that I would still be happy with at least one person in this story, including myself.

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