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Two Complicated
Two weeks, he called. Tuesday. Exactly two weeks. Nailed it. I knew he’d call in two weeks. I knew because that was how long it took him to call the second time. I knew because I sensed he timed it just so. I knew because when I called, I sensed he was that guy. We had lunch.
That guy that plays games. The one that plays games the way a guy does. You know the one. They want to keep a girl dangling. Dangle a carrot like I’ll call you or we should go out. Then make you wait. If you get anxious, you’ll call. I called. Then he feigns how busy he was. He said he had been busy. That’s when I sensed it.
I once had a guy tell me he lost track of time. If two weeks went by, it would seem like two days. And vice versa. When I asked him what of his business meetings, he immediately said, "No, it only happened socially." Yeah, right.
So he called. Tuesday. Late at night. It’s Friday today. I have not called back. I don’t want to get entangled. I feel he is complicated. Why am I still thinking about him? I like him. I am complicated, too.
