Remember when you were in the knee-deep in the dating world and waiting for that one boy to call? You know, that boy who was THE BOY and was surely your destiny and the key to all your future happiness and joy? The one who didn’t seem to be able to actually pick up the phone and dial your number.
Mine, circa 1995, went a little something like this:
7 a.m. “Aaaah – a brand new day! THIS is the day he’s going to call. I KNOW it!”
7:05 a.m. Glance at the phone to make sure it wasn’t somehow knocked off the hook during the night. Somehow. Just in case.
7:24 a.m. “Was that the phone???”
8:15 a.m. – 8:19 a.m. Race quickly in and out of the shower - he might be feeling chatty this morning and you'd hate to miss the call.
9:03 a.m. Begin the “call, call, call, call, call, call” chant in your head.
9:11 a.m. Pick up the phone to make sure there is a dial tone. After all, there could have been some sort of car/telephone pole altercation, knocking out phone service to the entire metro area. Or a solar flare.
10:43:57 a.m. “Call, call, call, call.”
10:53 a.m. Leave the house for a perfectly lovely, breezy, enjoyable day which will include NO THOUGHTS of whether your phone is ringing at the VERY MOMENT.
10:54 a.m. Run back inside to make sure you’ve turned on the answering machine.
10:57 a.m. Call the answering machine to make sure it will pick up.
11:07 a.m. Call the answering machine to check for messages.
11:07:36 a.m. Curse because you can’t remember the code to retrieve messages from the answering machine.
11:07:49 a.m. Dig through your purse for the answering machine code written on the back of a receipt from the Espirit store.
11:08:11 a.m. No messages yet.
11:45 a.m. Still no messages. Maybe he is one of those people who doesn’t like to leave messages! There is a good possibility that he’s called and just didn’t leave a message.
11:45:18 a.m. Remind self to check new-fangeled caller ID gizmo when you get home.
11:45:20 a.m. Think how rarely you actually USE the word “new-fangeled”.
11:45:22 a.m. “OMG!!! Did I even plug in the new-fangeled caller ID gizmo?”
12:06 p.m. “I’m totally not stopping by the house to check the caller ID – I just really need to change shoes! I really do.”
12:07 p.m. Push the message button on the phone just to make sure.
12:07:08 p.m. Hear “You have no new messages.”
12:07:16 p.m. Think how danged irritating the voice on the answering machine is.
12:14 p.m. Leave the house again wearing different shoes. ‘Cause you really DID need to change those shoes.
12:45 p.m. Settle in to see a movie at the theater.
12:46 p.m. Mentally sneer at every couple that walks in the door.
12:47 p.m. As you’re watching previews, think about which ones would be perfect to see with THE BOY.
1:14 p.m. “Call call call call call.”
1:22 p.m. “If I hadn’t just spent $3.50 on this movie ticket, I’d go home. Not to check the answering machine or anything. I’m just not feeling well. Cramps.”
1:42 p.m. “Call call call call call call call call call call.”
2:28 p.m. Drive casually “call call call” and breezily “call call call” into the driveway, taking your time “call call call” gathering shopping bags containing “call call call” newly-purchased items.
2:29 p.m. Walk casually and breezily into the front door, taking your time to deposit shopping bags containing newly-purchased items onto the kitchen table, refusing to look at the answering machine.
2:29:01 p.m. “Please please please please.”
2:29:02 p.m. Glance at answering machine.
2:29:04 p.m. Though the red ‘message light’ is not blinking, cling to the belief that all hope is not yet lost.
2:29:07 p.m. Press the message button in case the red message light has simply stopped functioning properly. Those things DO burn out, you know.
2:29:11 p.m. Firmly believe that the “you have no messages” voice is the most irritating on earth. Ever. In the history of the world.
2:29:46 p.m. Scroll through the caller ID.
2:30:12 p.m. Scroll through the caller ID once more. Just in case you blinked at the exact moment that his name came up on the screen. It could happen.
2:30:43 p.m. Pick up the phone. Check for dial tone. Again.
2:43 p.m. Huff and stomp around the house.
2:57 p.m. ***Ring***
2:57:01 p.m. Race to the phone and pause for two more rings before answering. No need to look too anxious.
2:57:08 p.m. “Hello?”
2:57:09 p.m. Feel your balloon deflate when you realize it’s your mother.
3:16 p.m. Wonder why your mother feels compelled to prattle on and on and on and on, tying up the line for precious valuable minutes.
3:17 p.m. “Stop talking stop talking stop talking stop talking.”
3:57 p.m. Flop down on the sofa and proceed to stare at the non-ringing phone.
4:12 p.m. Walk out to get the mail.
4:13 p.m. Run the last few steps back into the house because you’re sure you heard the phone ringing.
4:14 p.m. Wonder what you actually heard, if it wasn’t the phone.
4:53 p.m. “Call call call call call call call call call.”
5:09 p.m. Flip past a show on TV about ESP, watch a few minutes and think, “couldn’t hurt – might help!”
5:10 p.m. Channel all your concentrate-ey-ness on sending mental messages to THE BOY, urging him to drop everything and race to the phone to call you.
5:15 p.m. Think how stupid ESP is.
5:23 p.m. Forage around in the fridge for something to eat.
5:44:16 p.m. “If he can’t be bothered to call me all day long, I’ll be DANGED if I’m going to answer the phone when he DOES call! He can just leave a message or not. I couldn’t care less!”
5:47:57 p.m. ***Ring***
5:47:59 p.m. Stub toe racing to the phone.
5:48:03 p.m. Hang up on fax tone.
5:52 p.m. Call girlfriend to whine about situation. Briefly. Very briefly. Because you don’t have call waiting.
6:12 p.m. Decide to do the healthy, mature thing and get out of the house for a while – maybe a nice walk to clear your head.
6:13 p.m. Make sure answering machine is working. And that phone is working. ‘Cause you never know. Solar flares.
6:14 p.m. Leave house on healthy, mature walk to clear your head.
6:14:08 p.m. – 6:45 p.m. Rack your brain trying to think of a single, solitary reason that HE hasn’t called. Maybe he’s out of town. Maybe he had to work today. Maybe he is spending the day with his mom. Maybe he has laryngitis. Maybe he’s busy and is counting the minutes until this evening when he will finally have time to call. Maybe HIS neighborhood was hit by solar flares knocking out telephonic communications. Maybe he was involved in a fender bender and even though he was fine the paramedics insisted on taking him to the hospital to be checked out and maybe the ER was really packed, and maybe it took forever for them to examine and release him, and maybe his head is hurting and the only thing he can think of on his way home is how close he came to death and he vowed at that moment to never live another day without you.
6:46 p.m. Walk in the house holding your breath.
6:46:12 p.m. Loathe all modern communication devices. And boys who don’t call.
7:12 p.m. “Call call call call there is no reason for you not to have called all day what are you DOING?”
7:55 p.m. Spend the next ten minutes with your hand on the phone. Not sure why.
8:11 p.m. Start straightening up your house.
8:27 p.m. And dusting.
8:46 p.m. And doing laundry.
8:53 p.m. And putting away dishes.
9:00 p.m. And reloading dishwasher.
9:05:16 p.m. And ***ring***
9:05:18 p.m. Heart leaps into throat.
9:05:19 p.m. “There is no one by the name of Irene here.” “Yes, I’m sure.”
9:06 p.m. Decide not to vacuum, as it might drown out the phone's ring.
9:23 p.m. Decide that a nice, long, hot bath might be just the thing to soothe rattled nerves and possibly broken heart.
9:25 p.m. Gather towel. Run water. Add bubble bath.
9:26 p.m. Sink down into warm water with a big sigh.
9:27 p.m. Lift self out of nice warm tub to go retrieve portable phone, just in case.
9:27:47 p.m. Leave bubbly trail back to tub and balance phone precariously on the edge.
9:28 p.m. Re-sink into warm tub with another big sigh.
9:28 – 9:53 p.m. “CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL CALL!!!!”
10:00 p.m. “Some people would consider it too late to call after 10pm, but not the BOY. There’s still plenty of time for him to call.”
10:16 p.m. Stare at phone while holding phone and re-trying that whole ESP thing. Just in case.
10:18 p.m. Think how stupid that whole ESP thing is. Again.
10:42 p.m. Give up and go to bed. With the phone laying on the pillow beside you.
10:44 p.m. Check for a dial tone one more time.
11:16 p.m. Fall asleep
7 a.m. “Aaaah – a brand new day! THIS is the day he’s going to call. I KNOW it!”
This is NOT AT ALL what our weekdays have been like since Mark’s court hearing, waiting for the SW to call. NOT AT ALL.
We have call waiting and cell phones and voicemail and let's not forget e-mails. We know absolutely FOR SURE that SW hasn't called. Or e-mailed. Even once.
I have to go now – I have to vacuum my house – in about 20 minutes– when D*F*C*S closes up for the day.
