For the last two years I've had a good friend, Sarah. We were pursuing the same degree so we had lots of classes together. I lived closer to campus so she would frequently come over to my place when she had a break between classes and didn't want to hang out at school. Often we would meet up for a meal, coffee, tea, whatever. A couple of times we attended a "black church" and had fun standing out like sore thumbs in the congregation. We'd call and text each other frequently.

Now we're in different states doing different things, but we still have each other's phone numbers, email addresses, and we're facebook friends. I've contacted her multiple times this summer through each of those mediums - I've left a voicemail; I've texted a few times; I've emailed her; and I've written on her wall. Never once has she contacted me back.

I'm starting to feel discouraged by this. I'm not one of those people who gets mad at someone if I haven't heard from them in a while. I'd be a hypocrite if that was the case. I have a tendency to start fresh when I move, carrying over only one or two friendships from the last place that I actively participate in. It's not that I don't consider everyone else my friends, I just don't get in touch with them beyond a random facebook wall-post. However, as I've attempted to contact her multiple times in various ways, I'm kind of bummed that she hasn't responded to at least one of them!

Makes me wonder...why?

To quote Disney's Mulan, men are "Mysterious as the dark side of the moon."

 

Everyone says guys are simple. That women are the ones who hide complex layer after complex layer and somehow expect men to know what we're thinking. Perhaps this is true in general. However, my situation begs to differ.

 

I met Mr. Mysterious the first weekend of July at a fireworks show. See that? We met and there was fireworks!

We went on a date the following weekend. It was simple, safe, and pleasant. We both had a good enough time we wanted to get back together.

We went on another date the next weekend. It was nice, awkward, unsure, good, better, romantic, and a little steamy.We both parted wanting more.

He wasn't available the next weekend, which was fine. He'd made plans with friends, I'm not going to deny him that! Then there was nothing. No communication. I stopped sending texts. I didn't want to be that girl. His facebook status informed the world he'd be spending a long weekend on the other side of the state. Okay, fine.

 

But is he still interested?

My thoughts are simple: Me Jane. Me want Tarzan.

But what's going on in his mind? Is he simply no longer interested? Did he decide we live too far away to be worth the effort? Does he need to sort out some confusion? He almost got married last fall before he and his fiancée broke up. Is he unsure about getting in another relationship? Or am I just being a major worrywart?

Maybe none of it has to anything to do with me. Maybe he just hasn't thought about the fact that I might be wandering around in dating limbo, unsure of what's going on. Maybe he just needs to make up his mind and either try or leave.

 

I hadn't dated in forever. He drew me back into that world and I discovered I LIKE IT. I guess I'll just do my own thing unless or until he comes back. If he comes back, I'll take him up in a heartbeat (after gently chastising him for stressing me out like this!) because Mr. Mysterious is, quite frankly, Mr. Awesome. Everything I've learned about him, so far, lines up with what I've been looking for in a man. I don't want to let him slip through my fingers. But I also don't want to be holding onto one of those water slipper squeeze toys. You know what I'm talking about?

They're fun but nearly impossible to hold on to.

If he doesn't want to be held on to, then I won't fight him. But danged if I don't want him!

*sigh*

A bamboo beach mat with pink piping strewn over the lumps and bumps of sandy terrain.
The constant hiss and roar of ocean waves pulling back and crashing against the shore.
Long blonde hair, wet against the skin; a salty breeze catching the dry flyaways.
Damp sand clotted between wet toes and clumped along sun-bronzed ankles, shins, and forearms.
Dry sand under fingernails, brushed from fingers.
Homemade tuna salad sandwiches, crunched along with sand grit between the teeth.
Tomato chunks next to boiled egg. Crisp lettuce.
A pop of a plastic lid and the snick of peeled foil; Pringles, sour cream and onion.
Click. Snick. Hiss.
Foam bubbling over fingers. Laughter. Hurried slurps.
Cool and sweet, fizzling in the mouth like a million microscopic explosions.
Diet Coke loosening the sand grit between the teeth.
Sand crushed between molars, spat out or swallowed.
Seagulls crying, circling overhead.
Aloha in a child's heart.
   

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