Chapter 6
A Concerted
Effort
“Okay, who brought money for tickets?”
my friend asked at next Friday’s happy hour.
She was always the ring leader of
kicking our butts into gear and twisting our arms into doing
something fun. James Taylor was coming to town the last week of
September and the tickets were go to on sale the next
morning.
As usual, I didn’t have any extra
money. I hated missing out on group activities, especially when I
was usually the only one out of the group that wasn’t able to
go.
I replied, “I’m out. Sorry guys. Y’all
have fun.”
I really wanted to go to the concert,
but there was no way I could justify spending that much money on
something that would just last a couple of hours. My disappointment
slowly faded after sipping on a Manhattan as my rainstorm cohort
told everyone at the table what had happened the week before at the
gas pump. My girlfriends were absolutely giddy, delighting in
exclaiming this must be fate—this must be “The One”.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him; but
I wasn’t going to get my hopes up. I knew better than to set myself
up for that kind of disappointment.
Yet, it seemed my luck was starting to
take a change for the better. My friend called me the night before
the James Taylor concert and informed me that one of the girls had
come down with the flu and would not be able to go.
“She said she would go halfsies with
you. She will sell the ticket for half-price.”
That was an offer I couldn’t refuse. So
the next day, after work, I picked out something fabulous to wear
to the concert—sleeveless black turtleneck, tight leopard print
capris, a matching leopard print belt with black patent buckle to
go over the waistline of the top, and black patent platform
stilettos.
Yes, looking good could be painful at
times. But as a single woman, it was always important to put my
best face forward. James Taylor might be mellow and mild, but I was
in the mood to be hot—slammin’ hot!
We met at a friend’s house and loaded
up in one of the girls’ Suburban. Thankfully, she let us out at the
curb in front of the arena. That would have been a precarious walk
in stilettos!
We made our way inside and mingled in
the foyer before entering the auditorium. Our seats were awesome;
the center of the fourth row. The house lights went down and Mr.
Taylor took the stage. We stood and swayed to the music as we sang
along. All eight of us knew nearly every word of every
song.
During the song
‘
Fire and Rain
’,
one of my friends reached behind the girl next to me and grabbed my
arm; pulling me toward her.
Smiling, she cupped her hand next to my
ear and said, “Try not to be obvious, but look who is in the row in
front of us!”
She used her thumb to point over her
shoulder. When she was back in her place, I casually looked in that
direction.
It was him! He turned and looked back
over his date’s head just as I was looking his way. I immediately
jerked my head back and tried to concentrate on the singer directly
in front of me. My face was flushed. I did my best to appear
calm—and control my breathing. My heart was beating loudly in my
ears, almost drowning out the drumbeat on stage.
Don’t look. Don’t look. I felt as if a
magnet was pulling my head to the side. I closed my eyes. I knew:
if I looked at him and our eyes met—something was there.
I took a deep breath and opened my
eyes. Slowly, I leaned forward and timidly looked his way. There he
was—looking back at me with that same wide, knowing grin he had
flashed at the gas station.
Just then, I heard the words of the
song being sung, “I always thought that I’d see you, baby, one more
time again. Thought I’d see you, thought I’d see you one more time
again.”
And this time; I smiled at
him.
Chapter 7
Web
He knows I exist! The conundrum I faced
was: just how was I to go about reaching out to him? I had already
made so many mistakes which led to my chronic status as a single
thirty-something woman. I knew ‘The Rules’ like the back of my
hand: never ever call a man; if he calls, never ever answer, always
wait at least 3 days before returning his call; never ever sleep
with a man before you have a commitment; never ever tell a man you
love him first; always make a man chase you; never ever chase a
man.
Good grief! If I followed all of those
rules, I might as well embrace my title of
“old-maid-crazy-cat-lady-on-the-block”. I had read and re-read the
rules. I had watched and re-watched every episode of every season
of Sex in the City. I had to think and re-think this situation.
This was big—huge! I couldn’t mess this one up. How could I reach
him without breaking the rules?
Time passed. It was mid-November. Every
day, I thought of him. This was ridiculous! I felt like a
school-girl again—it had been that long since I had suffered a
crush like this! Someone had more than likely beat me to the punch.
I knew a man like him wouldn’t stay unattached for long. I had to
think of something and find a way to get to him. Oh, God—was I
turning from the “old-maid-crazy-cat-lady-on-the-block” into a
pathetic, obsessive stalker?
None of my girlfriends actually knew
him personally. Just like me, they were younger than he was and
only knew of him through his family. So there was no one I could
petition to introduce us. For some reason, I refused to give up
hope of meeting him someday.
I poured myself a glass of wine and sat
down to decompress from another hectic day. The phone rang. It was
one of my girlfriends on the other end of the line. She excitedly
told me she had a rather tasty morsel of information for
me.
“
You won’t believe who
actually has a profile on Match.com!” she squealed.
I replied, “No way! What’s his user
name?”
She answered, “His name without the
vowels—just type in his name using consonants only. It shows he
hasn’t been online in a couple of weeks. But if you send him a
message, it will be forwarded to his email. This is your ticket,
girl! Go for it!”
Ah ha! The rules didn’t say a darn
thing about snagging someone on the worldwide web! So I hung up the
phone and fired up the computer. Although I had told myself I would
never resort to becoming a member of an online dating service, I
didn’t waste any time signing up and creating my
profile.
Of course, my profile was under a
surreptitious pseudonym and did not contain any pictures. I
judiciously created my page with just enough subtle nuances to
intrigue him. He would not be able to recognize me from the
profile.
I set out with the intent to spark his
curiosity. I was going to make him chase me. I wanted to make him
desire me in way he had never experienced—before we ever even
met.
This task would need to be handled
delicately and intelligently. And I would be required find the
courage to do something I had never done before. It was my time to
step up to the plate and put it all on the line. I would find a way
to level the playing field and advance to his league.
It was scary. I was afraid of the
possibility of rejection. I was intimidated. I hadn’t even met this
man, yet he held a strange power over me.
Ever since he had entered my conscious
thought, he had never left my subconscious thought. In spite of how
scared I was to take this chance, I was even more terrified of the
aspect of doing nothing—and being without him; always wondering
what could have been had I been willing to take a
chance.
I had to be careful about what clues I
gave him and the information I disclosed. Yes, he had seen me. But
he had no idea who I was. After all, it had been a long time since
he had known me as a child and there was no way he could recognize
me from that long ago. So I decided to start with our
beginning.
I completed my profile and carefully
crafted my first message to him:
“
Hello. I know you. You know
me. If you desire for us to know each other better then I will send
you on a quest to find me. All you need to reply
is…Yes.”
I closed my eyes and pressed
‘send’.
The next morning, I was quite pleased
to discover his prompt reply in my inbox, “Yes”.
As a general rule, the busier my work
day was, the more quickly it passed. But that was not the case on
that day. I thought the day would never end so I could go home. I
needed to get home and tend to the task of sending him on his
quest.
When I finally arrived home that
evening, I threw my coat and purse on the couch and practically ran
to the computer to log on.
I sent him his first clue:
“
My first recollection of
you was when I was 4 and you were 17.”
He must have experienced a rather
anxious day, as well. Obviously, he had spent the day anticipating
my reply. I received his quick reply within a few
minutes.
“
Hmmm. You are going to make
me work for this. Aren’t you?” he inquired.
I replied, “Yes, Sir. I’ll send your
next clue tomorrow. Have a good evening.”
Immediately, he responded, “Come on.
Give me one more hint. Just one more, please?”
I didn’t reply. He would have to wait.
The rules—the rules! This was working! It was actually working! The
anticipation was gradually building! I got him!
I had found him and he was caught in
the web I was spinning.
Chapter 8
Patience
The most difficult part of the process
was not giving in to the overwhelming desire to simply tell him who
I was and let the cards fall where they may. But so far, I had been
successful at making this as equally excruciating for him as it was
for me. Surely, good things would happen to those who wait—very
good things!
Plus, it gave me time to shed the extra
8 pounds I had put on since summer’s end. I needed to be in the
best shape of my life before meeting him in person. So, I needed to
be patient enough to prolong the quest as long as
necessary.
My girlfriends and I met at the gym
three times a week. While jogging on the elliptical, they would
help me contrive my next message to send him. I was starting to run
out of ideas for the clues. And curiosity was starting to get the
better of me.
When I hit the scales after my
work-out, I wasn’t down 8 pounds. I was down 10! Yes! The time was
quickly approaching—it was almost time to reveal my
identity!
After two weeks of cajoling him with
vague hints referring to our past connections and his incessant
pleas for more, I decided to drop the bomb. After this clue, he
would know!
When I get home from the gym, I quickly
showered and slipped into my robe. I sat down at the computer with
a chilled glass of Carmenere. I couldn’t help but grin as I typed
out the words:
“Have you ever been struck by lightning
in the middle of a pouring rain?”
I took a sip of wine and pressed
‘send’.
His reply to my last message sped
through virtual space:
“Well, well, well! Hello, my beautiful
girl. I suppose since it’s cold outside, it would be inappropriate
to ask you to wear a white blouse and leopard pants when we
meet?”
Chapter 9
Contact
The quest was complete! Now, he knew my
identity. I felt both a sense of relief and a rush of
exhilaration.
My friends and I kept the phone lines
lit up that night. I could barely contain my excitement as I
blurted out the words of his message.
Before going to bed that night, I
checked my email one last time. There was one more message from him
titled, “now that I know who you are”.
I was almost afraid to read it. Oh
please, oh please—don’t let it be a rejection. I had been so caught
up in the thrill of the quest; I had allowed myself to forget about
the possibility that he might not feel the same attraction for me
as I did for him.
I inhaled deeply and opened the
message:
“
Hey, lovely
lady,
You have no idea how much I have wanted
to find you. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since
the day I first saw you in the rainstorm. Will you please do me the
honor of giving me your telephone number? I need to hear your sweet
voice.”
Exhale! I don’t know how, but somehow,
I found the willpower to follow the rules. I logged off and went to
bed without answering him. Sleep would be hard to come by that
night. I finally drifted off with absolutely nothing but him on my
mind.
The following afternoon, I messaged my
phone number to him. I requested that he call me after 8:00 pm.
That would give me enough time to come home and wind down from the
day.
To say I was nervous was an
understatement. I could barely eat a bite. I turned on the
television to occupy my mind while I waited for his call. I
habitually glanced at the blue numbers of the digital clock on the
DVD player. Minute after minute slowly blinked away on the clock.
At 8:03, the phone rang. I jumped up to look at the caller ID.
There was his name; complete with vowels this time.