um, Hello?

Is anyone even checking this shit anymore? The four of you that check it, I mean. Took me a little break, I did. Having some difficulty managing my time. Because I have far too much of it.

So, I have been trying to decide on what to talk about here and at first I wanted to talk about whether or not the internet is a viable place to meet people. I had all this ammo about Friendster and MySpace, and how if those sites are actual meeting places then I am being cock-blocked by some of the comments people post about me. My friendsters seem to make me sound gay, and my myspacers make me out to be a complete lush (hush your mouth people). But I'm bored with that already.

I want to talk about anticipation instead. And here is why: one of my best friends from high school, Summar, came to visit me in Austin and the first night she was in we went out downtown. It was Saturday night and Summar was all gimped out from a knee injury, and seeing that downtown Austin on the weekends is completely unnavigable by car, we got around on bike taxis. In case you don't know, bike taxis are everywhere around downtown Austin on the weekends. It's a pretty sweet deal, they take you to what ever bar you are hopping to and you pay them whatever you want, as they can only be paid in tips.

Anyway, it's the end of the night, bars are closing, and me and my lady friend are totally drunk. Me and ole' limpy wave down a bike taxi for the last leg of the evening and some random bike taxi dude picks us up and we are on our way. Being the obnoxious drunks that we are, we immediately start talking the guy up, friendly style, in no way implying that either of our ultimate motives was to hook up with this bike taxi dude. At some point, dude asks me for my phone number and thinking I would cut him off at the chase I asked for his number instead and then after he dropped us off I proceeded to leave some retarded message on his phone with Summar laughing her ass off in the background.

We go home and I, of course, proceed to completely forget about the entire encounter.

Fast-forward a few days and I begin to get calls from a number I don't recognize on my cell phone. Many calls. Producing many messages and text messages. Apparently bike taxi guy did not forget about the encounter and now, three days later, is hell bent on getting me to answer my phone. The thing is, I honestly could not pick this guy out in a line up, I have virtually no recollection of talking to him at all. And the messages he was leaving were seriously creepy and getting creepier and he is very, very insistent, and so... I never answered the phone. After two days of calling every few hours, he stops. I think I'm off the hook. Then a couple days later, he starts calling again and leaving messages that were genuinely becoming scary. He was trying to call me out on not having the human decency to return a phone call or the individuality to not "play the game." I must reiterate here that this was a guy I met for about 4 minutes while I was drunk and we had no physical contact whatsoever. All in all, and I am joking not at all about this, he left approximately 15 texts messages and about 30 minutes worth of voice mail messages on my cell phone. I crap you negatory (as my friendster Mike would say).

Now, I understand the apprehension one can have at attempting to contact someone that you barely know in order to, perhaps, get to know them. I am no stranger to making the first move, which makes me familiar with the anticipation of the response. And while my response to this particular advance was admittedly passive and maybe even cold (but come on, one four minute conversation doesn't obligate me to further dialogue I ain't interested in having), since when has disappointment not been a potential outcome of anticipation? And I say this as a realist, not a pessimist. If I had a dime for everytime I crossed my fingers and did a little prayer dance in hopes that on the other end of the ringing phone was some potential hook-up partner I would cash that shit in and buy every person I've ever pined for in my life a fucking steak dinner. With dessert. Not calling back is international code for getting blown off. Is it just me, or don't you sort of just chalk that shit up as their loss?

In thinking about this I was reminded of a game we used to play in elementary school called '7-Up.' Essentially, seven students were chosen from the class (of about 25-30) and they stood at the front of the class while the rest of the students put their heads down on their desks (no peeking!) with one fist out. The seven up would then mosey among their blinded classmates and each would choose one kid by tapping the kid's fist; the kid would respond to the tap by turning their closed fist into a thumbs-up. Once the seven up had each chosen a person the teacher would call out "SEVEN UP!" and everyone would raise their heads and those with their thumb up would try to guess who chose them. If they guessed correctly then they got to be one of the 7 up and so the game went.

I describe this game not because it translates into a really fun adult drinking game, but because I clearly remember the anticipation of having my head down on the desk, waiting, and hoping, and practically willing someone to touch my hand so I could put my thumb up. I remember hearing the seven kids up shuffling around my desk, I could sense them wanting to touch my hand. And when I was chosen, there was an almost tangible sense of satisfaction, marked by a private grin on my concealed face. I won't even go into the flushed anticipation that occurred when one of the seven up was a boy I had a crush on. My point though, is that sometimes, many times, I wouldn't get chosen. Crush or not. Sometimes I went several rounds without getting chosen; and my built up anticipation would drain out of me like a leaky balloon. But that was the game: sometimes you will be chosen, and sometimes you won't. You can't fight the anticipation, but you can't always expect that it will go your way. I don't think that sounds so ridiculous.

All of a sudden I realize the importance of teaching kids useful games. As well as the benefits of just fucking walking.