Dial A for Awkward, by Doris

Last night I finally worked up the nerve to call Hunter Parrish. Rock had told me that email or texting was bad form, and HP didn't have my phone number, so I felt I had no other choice.

Rock, I love ya, but I'm texting or emailing next time.

As I've expressed before, I'm just not good on the phone with people I don't know. That doesn't apply to work situations: I can phone-schmooze with the best of them, when the occasion calls for it, because I have a specific purpose. Even at work, however, I prefer email.

But Hunter Parrish is cute, so I sucked it up and dialed his number.

I prayed to the Flying Spaghetti Monster for voicemail, so I could leave a message with my number and leave the ball in his court. No awkwardness!

And I almost got my wish.

Four rings...

"Hello?"

Shit.

Most. Awkward. Three minutes. Of my life.

I know I keep saying "awkward" and I want to yell at myself to get a thesaurus, but there really is no other word.

Remember, I talked to this guy at a bar for ten minutes. I have no idea what his personality is like. I don't even know whether he gave me his card to get away from me (although I don't think so, generally straight guys don't give you their contact info if they don't want you contacting them).

I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he is just as dorky on the phone as I am. Also, he was on his break from one of his three jobs and I think I caught him off-guard.

(That said, dude, why didn't you just screen the call? I almost always do that when I don't recognize the number, as does Rock.)

Mercifully, his break ended (at least that's what he said, and I was more than fine with that), but he said he'd call later in the week so we could set up a time to hang out.

Because he now has my number, the ball is in his court.

Honestly, his personality doesn't seem all that great--then again, we've interacted very little. I won't be heartbroken if I never hear from him again.

On the other hand, if I DO hear from him...

I'd totally hit that.

I mean, HE LOOKS LIKE HUNTER PARRISH.

He Likes Jane Austen, by Doris

Still haven't called Hunter Parrish. Probably will tonight. I intended to last night, but I'm taking some much needed "me-time" and didn't want the stress that goes with calling a boy who gave you his card at a bar three days ago. Which hasn't happened to me in a looong time, I might add.

As for Jim Berger...the short but cute emails keep coming, back and forth, fast and furious. We're into a lot of the same things. He can cook and bake really well, and I want to ask him to teach me but I'm too shy to do so (and that's a lot to ask of someone). We've both gotten a little teasing and flirty the way you only can in writing.

This has been going on for over a week. I keep waiting for it to stop. It doesn't.

At this point, I know Rock will yell at me to do something about it. To call or text, as I now have his number which he freely gave to me. To just freaking ask if he wants to see a movie, grab a coffee or a drink, go to a play (yes, he likes going to the theatre. Fuck me).

I want to make it clear: Rock has a very valid point.

I just want Jim to be the one who initiates.

There are a few reasons for this: my sister and I were saying last night that maybe it makes us bad feminists, but we like it when a guy makes the first move, even if it's just platonic. There's something about feeling wanted, whether it's by a friend or a potential makeout buddy.

Also, there's the elephant in the room known as his ex-girlfriend who's also my friend.

Again, even if it turns out to be platonic, I don't want it to look like I was biding my time until the breakup so I could pursue him. That's not true at all, but let's face it: in awkward relationship situations, whether it's straight-up cheating or more of a gray area, the woman gets blamed. Hell, I've blamed the woman several times before, in situations with friends and in my own life--I'm not proud of it, but there it is.

It's frustrating. I feel like we're now going back and forth, like "your move." "No, YOUR move." I wish I could make it clear that I will say yes, I won't turn him down, and I will take his cues. If he wants to be friends, that's totally cool (and it really is, I've crushed on all my straight guy friends at some point and it always, always passes once we spend some time together). If he wants to go for more...well, I won't stop him.

And I almost know that if I called, or texted, or even asked to hang out, he'd be very receptive. That said, if he asks me, calls me, texts me, I'll know he's not humoring me. Does that make sense?

I haven't said this until now, but the other day I remembered how I initially felt about Excalibur, in those halcyon days when I was pretty sure he liked me but didn't know 100%. I remember thinking he was really funny and cool and we had things in common, and if he wasn't into me like that, I'd be completely fine being his friend. I just wanted him in my world.

It's been almost 15 years, but now I feel that way about Jim Berger.

I just want him in my world.

Cue toughlove comment from Rock in 3, 2...

Fun With Numbers, by Doris

Earlier this week, I was sent a one-line message that did not contain proper grammar. Normally, that is a dealbreaker, but I liked the thumbnail picture of the guy's face so I clicked on it.

Hello, Six-Pack.

As I tend to go for the underfed hipster with just enough tummy to love type, I was intrigued. After Rock confirmed that the pictures were definitely not Photoshopped, I sent Six-Pack a message saying what's up. We agreed to meet for a drink Saturday at my favorite neighborhood dive bar.

I was fully intending to vet him and make sure he wasn't a serial killer (I've watched way too much 48 Hours, aka Don't Be a Single Woman Who Enjoys Sex Or YOU WILL DIE), and then take him home with me. Even if I got a weird feeling, I was probably at least going to make out with him at the bar. I arranged for a friend to call at midnight and make sure everything was okay.

I got there at 9, our designated meeting time. At 9:15, I knew he wasn't coming.

Now, to be fair, I'm not sure what happened. On Thursday night after we'd decided on a date and time, I messaged him asking for his cell phone number. I'm not a big phone person, but I like to have this before a date so I can call or text if I'm running late (which I usually am). Never heard back. Granted, I just moved, as did half of my city, and I don't yet have Internet at home: in fact, I had to send this last message from Rock's computer. It could very well be he's in the same situation and only has sporadic access to OKCupid. Maybe something did happen and he had no way of getting ahold of me.

Or maybe he's just a jackass who got a better offer.

Either way, I decided to wait another 15 minutes, as I was enjoying sitting around and drinking a beer.

Then, a very cute guy walked into the bar. He was alone, and appeared to be waiting for someone. I was pretty sure it wasn't Six-Pack, but there was a little resemblance, and sometimes people look different from their pictures. And if it really was Six-Pack, maybe he hadn't seen me yet.

A year ago this totally wouldn't have happened. Last night, I took a chance.

I took myself and my beer to the stool next to him.

"Excuse me," I said, "but has anyone ever told you, you look like Hunter Parrish?"

(He totally did, by the way.)

So it wasn't Six-Pack. But HP was a nice guy who is an artist and has three other jobs, who had just come from a concert and was waiting for his (male) friend. We had a fun little conversation (during which the word "girlfriend" didn't come up at all), and after he got a text from his friend asking him to meet elsewhere, I decided to walk out with him. I didn't tell HP my exact situation, just that I was waiting for someone too and I didn't think they were going to show.

Before we parted ways, he gave me his card.

And those weren't the only digits I scored yesterday.

Besides seeing each other at work, Jim Berger and I have been emailing back and forth for over a week. Just little things: our weekend plans, joking/bitching about work, etc. He contacted me yesterday, recommending a play, and saying he should have asked me to join him as he had a free ticket and his friend bailed at the last minute.

Seeing my opening, I emailed back: "For next time, or if you find yourself stranded at the movies: [my phone number]."

Less than two hours later, I get a reply: "Your number is now in my phone, so expect calls if I'm stranded. Or otherwise." Also, his number.

I have no idea where this is going.

I can't wait to find out.