Apparently I did give Matty my phone number in one of my drunken stupors. I answer very scared thinking it's some crazy on the other line waiting to ruin my life, call me a whore, or ask me to fuck them. But nope, it's Matty. I answer, "Hello?"
"hey"
"Hey, who is this?"
"It's Matt." (hmm apparently he doesn't refer to himself as Matty interesting...very interesting).
"Oh hey, what's up?"
" I need to get a hold of Cr's number."
"Oh ok, um yeah. Uh I have that...um hold on...um I mean let me me call you right back because it's on this phone and uh I don't know it." (I was possessed by the least articulate ghost known to man)
"Uh alright," he says uneasily, reading my creepy, nervous vibe. We never had the creepy nervous vibe before...but then again, I don't know if we've ever talked completely sober or if we really talk all that much before we get naked. (Perhaps this is something to work on...I'll jot a note to myself about that)
I hang up, I scroll for her number and then I call him back--playing it muchas cooler.
"Hey, here's her number"
"Uh thanks..."(pauses, waits for me to say something more)
Mumbling, "sure uh, no problem...(pauses, knowing he's waiting for me to say something, especially since I was a little wiggy the last time we saw each other because his ex girlfriend/my old friend (many, many years ago when they were in high school) was at the bar too and I didn't feel like dealing with anything.
(nervous pause extends)
He says,"So..."
I repeat like a retarded parrot,"Soo..."
Then I snap out of it, "Ima gonna let you a go." (obviously I have lost all sense of grammar, syntax, basically the whole shabang).
I detect a sense of sadness...but maybe it's just me and I'm sick of rejection.
"Bye," he says.
"Bye," I say and trudge to the kitchen to grab a pickle to soothe my mind.