Four hours later I am panicking for calling and potentially losing my plastic home goods to a very bad man! Just when I think Reindeer won’t call back, he does. And I am relieved because the power has shifted back to me and I feel closer to getting my Tupperware returned.
“Hey there,” Reindeer says. Oh boy, there it is again, that yummy, sexy, turns my knees to molten chocolate voice. Sidebar: WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Why can’t I get over him? “Hey Reindeer,” I reply, praying I can contain myself and banish hopeful thoughts that he professes his undying love pour moi!
Without my prompting HE launches into a tale about HIS day. He was at lunch when I called. This comment mortally wounds every bit of me because I presume he met a woman. And it’s not like I can ask because I will die if he confirms my fear. Thinking I had any power is a complete joke. Then, as if on cue, he says, “I met a buddy at the Doral Arrowood Country Club in Westchester. Didn’t you go to... you’ve been there right?” He remembers this? I went there LOOOOOONG before I ever met him.
Because I am weak and it doesn’t feel like six weeks have elapsed I fall into conversation with him and share that I’m freezing. He laughs and says, “How can the girl from Minnesota be cold?” “Don’t ask,” I reply. “I’m going back for a few weeks.” “Oh really? I’ve been in Kansas for the past few weeks,” Reindeer shares. “How is Kansas?” I ask. “I don’t get to many of the square states.” “While I was there I thought of you,” Reindeer says. This conversation is interesting and all over the board, yet I cannot segue into the opportunity to pounce for my plasticware! “Yes, in Kansas City I take Interstate 435 see signs for I-35 for St. Louis and remember you were once a former resident,” Reindeer says.
Okay what is going on here? This he remembers, too? Finally after 35 minutes I say, “Can I ask you a question?” He replies, “Yes.” I pause and then ask, “What happened in our last conversation? It was weird and awkward.” Now he takes a long pause and I stop breathing, waiting for the moment of truth. I should have asked for my Tupperware and forgone the closure.
“Yes,” he says. “It was awkward…I still have your dishes and you must want them back since they seem expensive.” “Well yes there is the matter of my Tupperware.” This is when I should ask him to mail them back. Do I? No. Instead I redirect and re-ask, “So again, what went wrong?” “I need to think about it,” Reindeer replies. WHAT?! He has had six weeks to figure out why we stopped dating. But I let it go and he suggests that we meet in January because I leave for the Twin Towns in 72 hours.
I hang up and flop onto the couch. I reach for the remote and surf the TV for some Law and Order. By flirting and remembering random little me-isms, Reindeer has filled me with false hope. And I have forgotten how dangerous that can be.