Photo by Chelsea Parker

I got out of a three and a half year relationship not too long ago, right about the time that the holiday decorations were going up and everyone was greeting each other with a cheerful “Hello!”  Suffice it to say this was one of the worst Christmases that I have ever had.  I am not blaming him for the demise of our partnership; we both had an equal hand in it.  But three months on, despite our best efforts to remain amicable, it hasn’t been going so well.  This isn’t meant to be a pity party, and I have been slowly but surely rediscovering what it means to be an “I” instead of an “Us”.

Last weekend, as I’m sure you all know, was St. Patrick’s Day.  I was looking forward to it as I enjoy going out, having a good time, and occasionally consuming large amounts of alcohol.  As I was socializing at a local bar (lets call it University Mound) I ran into an old acquaintance whom I haven’t seen in maybe four or five years.  We chatted for a while and then decided to go hang out at my apartment.  We had a great time, and when he left a little bit before four I gave him my phone number.  I then promptly passed out.

The next morning around 10AM I received a text from him asking me if I wanted to go have brunch with him and some of his friends.  I was in no shape to go anywhere, let alone eat anything, so I declined.  Now I know all about the rules that say you’re supposed to wait X amount of time before contacting someone you just had a first date with, but whatever, I sent him a text on Tuesday night asking if he wanted to come over and watch a movie.  His response was that he was tired and about to hit the sheets.

“Oh well!” I responded.

I knew it came across as rude but come on!  So the next day I sent him a short but sweet message apologizing for being testy with him.  He graciously accepted my apology and offered to give me a ride to work the next morning.  Sweet!  Not only will I get to see him again but as I don’t have a car I won’t have to walk.

Thursday morning rolls around and I make a special effort to look nice.  Do my hair, put on some makeup, and wear this really cute top that shows off my cleavage  just perfectly.  And then I sit on my front steps and wait.

The car pulls up, I start grinning, and butterflies take flight in my stomach.  I walk to the car, open the door, sit down, and…WTF!!  It’s my co-worker Steve Waffles!  Steve Waffles with the beautiful fiancee that he absolutely adores.  He told me later that the look of shock and bewilderment on my face was priceless.

It turns out that I didn’t have Steve’s number in my phone, and he was the one that texted me to go out to brunch with a group of people that Sunday.  Since I didn’t recognize the number, I had just assumed that it was the other fellow’s.   Ahhhhh… single life.  Luckily Steve, aka “the WaffleMan”, has a great sense of humor and we laughed about it for quite a while.  Now the mystery is, what happened to the other guy?  At this point I don’t think I really care.

Photo Credit: Chelsea Parker

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