If I'd have been home today, I would have written this all in the comments section of my last post. But since I wasn't, I won't. I'll just turn a comment response into a real live (albeit short) post. Don't expect a lot from me tonight. I'm just trying to get through one more day of work and then allow myself to fall over in a discombobulated heap.
Even with a couple of people changing their answers, it's pretty clear that the overwhelming vote was to Call The Man. Even I could see which way the wind was blowing. I don't want anyone to feel any pressure to give me the perfect answer. I'm a big girl, and in spite of my Majority Rules comment, I'm going to give a lot of weight to what my gut is telling me first and foremost. But some people brought up a few things that could be interesting to look into a little further.
Laurie asked for more information. Did I get vibes? Did he seem nice? And the answer is...I don't know. About the vibes anyway. He seemed to be a nice guy. I'm way past the point in my life where I see any attraction in anything other than nice. It's hard to tell about vibes because he was at work. Most people - especially when they're working with paying customers - tend to be nice. Now having said that, I certainly felt that we were both flirting - in a very understated way. That doesn't necessarily mean anything, since I'm a terrible flirt most of the time without even meaning to be. (Note to self: Work on that). She also mentioned that hot people aren't always too nice, which is absolutely true. But here's the thing. My own personal "type" isn't a type that the whole world finds hot. I like quirky, I have a weakness for geeks and I'm bored silly by classically good looking. Now having said that, no one would call this man a dog.
Did I answer the question? No? I didn't think so, either.
Then there was Devon. Make a list, she said. Excellent suggestion. So here's the one off the top of my head.
It could be fun.
I could really like him.
He might be a jerk.
It could be fun.
I could really like him.
He might not be at all interested.
What would my kids say?
It could ruin my whole image of myself as a spinster for the rest of my life.
I haven't been on a date since Madonna was a pup.
Well. That's a little lopsided, isn't it?
And then there's Frances. The problem here is that I agree totally with the core of what she's saying. He knows where I am. Hell, he had his hands all over my financial panties for an hour. He has two of my phone numbers and an email address. I fall back onto the work dilemma, though, since if it were me I wouldn't call someone I'd met on my job and ask them out. If they got offended or something, that could be problematic. On the other hand, he's handing out business cards for his own business on this job, which I find a little odd, if you want to know the truth.
There's another factor at play here, too. Maybe what I need the most right now is the fantasy. The possibilities. The opportunity to walk around with a goofy ass smile on my face just because I can't help it. Maybe the next time I see him I won't be moved at all. Maybe this is my safe way to work through some of this stuff as a kind of trial run. Maybe the fantasy really is better than the reality.
I can't see that calling him to give me an estimate on fixing something would make me look like I was chasing him. But there is the curiosity factor. Left to his own, would he make a move? Would he even want to?
It was funny, actually, how it worked out in the first place. The day I met him was a frantic day of too many things scheduled. I had gone to the gym to run and had kind of half planned to throw on a hoodie over my workout clothes and pull my hair back into a ponytail and go straight to do my taxes from the gym. But I talked myself out of it because I'm trying to not look like a schlub any more than I have to. So I came home, showered, put on decent clothes (including a new shirt that I adore), put on make-up AND perfume, and just generally tried to get myself into the best mood I could to tackle a daunting day. Not my usual routine, to be sure. Usually I'm a hoodie and ponytail kind of gal. Kind of an odd time to pull out the put together act...at least in hindsight.
Oh, well. It's all just as clear as mud, isn't it? And not even short like I promised.
Maybe a good night of sleep will help.