Sunday, March 22, 2009
Never text a stranger.
I'm a nice person. It is very difficult for me to be mean to someone and if I feel that I were even slightly rude it will haunt me for days, weeks, months, and on special circumstances, even years. I also can't stand the feeling of owing somebody something. Sometimes, these traits end up giving me a huge pain in the ass.
A week or so ago I had waited on two separate tables that had ties with a few popular clubs in an area I like to frequent. Both tables asked me what I was doing this weekend, and I answered honestly: an old friend was in town from college and I was going to take her and a few other girl friends out. Both men left me their cards and told me to call before 9:00 that night with names to put on the VIP list. Unfortunately the girls decided to do something low key and with my huge heavy conscience, I let the gentlemen know through text messages that although I greatly appreciated their generosity, I would have to decline due to circumstances beyond my control. That was enough for one of the men. "Girls having trouble making up their minds? I have never heard of such a thing," he joked. The other seemed a little more put off. He made himself sound obviously disappointed, explaining how much he would have liked to see me again along with a few winkey faces. I pretended not to notice and figured that was the last I'd hear from him. Less than a week later it was St Patrick's day. And I received a text message from him asking if I needed to put my name on the list. I said sure because about ten girls from work and I were planning on bar hopping and that particular bar/club was a little difficult to get into. Through out the night he tried chatting with me, letting me know about friends he knew that would be there. I answered him, but as briefly as possible. Later on I began receiving text messages from a different number, frantically explaining that his phone had died, and asking me for the specific time I'd be in to see him. Wait what. "Nothing is free" I though. Damn it. He found me in the club and hugs were exchanged. My friends met him. He introduced us to his friends. And then we went along out merry ways. Good. Done.
Or not. As I was doing my table visits a few days ago, I play out my some what prerehersed spheal: "Hey guys how are we doin?? Beers' lookin' dangerously low!" as I'm signing the sheet on the table for proof of my table visit.
"You don't even recognize me?" He said. It was him. Again.
"Oh my god hey!" *half hug* "How are you?"
"You looked beautiful the other night"
"Oh I bet, in my tank top and ripped jeans"
"No you really did."
Uh oh. Serious face. Shit. Retreat. "Oh darn it I just got sat! Talk to you soon!"
And I didn't see him for the rest of the night. I didn't see him leave.
And then the next day I saw his friend in the kitchen. Yes. INSIDE the kitchen. Fixing something.
"What are you doing here?" I said, half shocked, feigning my well rehearsed smile.
"Oh they hire me to maintain some of the equipment."
Fuck. "Oh that's awesome! Well see you around!"
And then today. I was away from my phone for about half an hour and I returned to see a missed call. And a voice mail. From him.
"Brittany you sound so upset on your message, I... think that's unex...unacceptable. You need to change your message to happy-go-lucky sound. My buddy said that he saw you *clears throat*when he came to fix the dishwasher yesterday and I'm highly jealous. I hope to be able to schedule an appointment to see the lovely you. I hope you day is going good. Talk to you soon."
I did not leave him a message of any sort.
Fuck Fuck Fuck.