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Aug 10, 2003 "I think the Boston-flirt is reading my column," I despair to my friend, Irene by phone. Irene is several hours away from me. She is up late, writing, in her upstairs apartment on the Island. For sure, she is smiling and nodding, cross legged on her sofa in front of her laptop. She is my straight-laced friend with the surprise kick. Like a drink where you don't realize the alcohol content until after you've swallowed, she has a surprise kick. Conservative. But open to anything. Interesting combination. We are very different, but together we blend well. She is my settled friend. My talented Irish friend with dark hair and the great laugh. The great counselor-friend. The voice of reason. "Are you sure he's reading it?" "No. That's even worse. If I knew he was reading it...at least I could...well I don't know what I would do..." I laugh. "Does he know the Web Site?" she asks me. "No, I never told him. You think he can find it?" "I'm sure if this particular guy really wanted to find it, he could find it," she tells me gently. "Now what do I do?" I ask. "What makes you think he's reading it?" "He's been acting different." "OOooh, if he's been acting different, forget it. He's been reading it," she says. "In what way different?" "Aloof." "Aloof..forget it, he's reading it." "Calling less. He used to call a zillion times a day and now he only calls a reasonable amount per day. And he did ask me in detail what my very first impression of him was." "Calling less, forget it, he's reading it." "Last night he didn't call me back at the speed of light for the first time ever." "First time ever? Well, if he is reading it..would he be hurt by anything you wrote?" she asks. I know she is the voice of reason. I know she is gentle. It all seems fine to me.But I mull it over, just in case she is gently nudging me. "Iren? Somebody did e-mail me..clicked on the line for my e-mail address at the bottom of the column...which is great...but..she wrote to me she was sorry that the Boston-flirt turned out tobe a jerk. And I thought, jerk? He's not. Did I describe him poorly? Other people expressed their sympathy too.....I didn't make him sound THAT bad, did I??" "Chris, you called him Gomer Pile." "Yeah. Well." "I mean, Chris, Gomer Pile? He's a man. He has an ego.Think of what he felt when he read that, if he did. It's like him saying you looked like Roseanne Barr." "Hmm. Yeah. Okay." "Well, what are the options?" Irene asks me. "I can out right ask him if he's reading it." "Could you do that?" she asks. "Yes." "Are you going to ask him then?" Irene asks. "Nope." Irene laughs and says, "You can write a special column for him." "And say what in the column?" "Tell him what you feel about him." "Nope." "Why not?" "I can't." "Why not?" "I'm not THAT sure EXACTLY WHAT I feel. And hey, I already said nice things about him...I called him "my kind dream" and said he smiled at me like the moon." "Chris, the man was hoping he was "it" for you because you were "it" for him. Because it's all he needed. Everything ele was in place for him. He just needed you to feel the same way about him that he feels about you. So what did you do? You say probably the worst possible thing. And anyway, I think you know right away if you're attracted to a man or not. So I think you have your answer already." "But Irene, I was trying not to just see him as hot. And a flirt. And fun. I was TRYING to look inside him as the main deciding factor. Anyway, there IS one thing I know: I can't tell the story of the end of our first date without crying. "From good tears, I hope," Irene says, laughing. "I want to tell you what happened at the end of my first date with the Boston-flirt...but I need to go." Tell ya tomorrow. ------------ About the author: Chrissa Falcon is a newspaper reporter in the New York Metropolitan Area. Chrissa may be reached at ChrisFalconColumn@hotmail.com Comment on this column in the forum. Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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