Men are from Mars, Women are Venus Flytraps.

Note to my readers (which I think numbers 3, the last time I checked. Hi guys!): you all know this story. In fact, you've all received some variation of the following, which I copied and pasted from an e-mail. But I figured it needed adding to the blog. Should there be updates. Which there won't be. But one can hope.

A couple of weeks ago, during the shitstorm that was March 17th (the unimaginable combination of SXSW, St. Patrick's Day and the NCAA tournament), I asked out a ridiculously hot girl named...umm...Daisy. Alright, so her name isn't Daisy, but in the interest of anonymity (and continuity), I'm gonna stick to pseudonyms. Daisy is a friend of a friend. Daisy is unimaginably attractive. I decided to ask Daisy on a date. And it happened like this...

As day turned to night on March 17th, and as I switched over from "St. Patrick's Day festivities/SXSW day-shows" drunk to the much more intense "sports-watching, bar-hopping" drunk, my group of friends merged with another group of our friends, which put me in the company of the aforementioned Daisy. Now, at this point in the evening, I was many drinks in. Daisy was also many drinks in. So we started chit-chatting, and we were getting along really well. Well, as we're talking, her friend leans over to me and says, "if you really want to get with her, you have to ignore her." Now, this is maddening. I mean, I get it. I can't be so readily available, and girls enjoy chasing something unattainable as much as guys do, but man. So basically, what I'm being told is "right now you're the predator, but you really need to try to become the prey. Because as the predator you don't stand a chance." Which makes sense. I'm the out-of-shape, lazy hounddog, and she's the spry, elusive jackrabbit. It's much easier when I'm the bunny, hopping away at an easily surmountable pace and she's the cheetah. So I did everything in my power to change the dynamic. I pretended to ignore her. I talked to other people. I paid no attention to her. I went to another party(!) and left her behind. That one took some strength. So, while I'm gone, she starts sending me text messages. "Come back pleeeeease" and "hurrrrrry" and "where are you?" This is all very encouraging.

So I come back, and while we're talking, I bring up the guy she was dating (there was a guy hanging around who obviously had some kind of relationship with her. And he's a DJ. DJ Esoteric. Groan.). She said, "no, no, we're not dating anymore." So I said, "so, can I take you to dinner on Tuesday then?" And she said, "sure!" Great, right?

So Monday rolls around, and I start remembering that she'd had about twelve sugary sweet, ethanol-grade cocktails over the course of the night, and I start wondering if she even remembers our conversation. But I made a dinner reservation for two at the Belmont anyway. On my lunch break, I decided to call her just to make sure we were still on. Ring...ring...ring...ring...Now, at this point, my heart is sort of pounding. It's one of those things where you get yourself all ready to be charming and funny, and you're hoping they'll answer, but after about the third ring you start rehearsing the voicemail you plan to leave, which hopefully is also charming and funny, and by the fourth and fifth ring, you're hoping to god they don't answer, because now you're in full-fledged voicemail mode? This is how my brain works. Anyway, she didn't answer. I left a voicemail. And then I waited.

Well, she didn't call me Monday night. Nothing Tuesday morning. Nothing Tuesday at lunchtime. So I figured it was safe to cancel the reservation. But when I called the Belmont to cancel, my cell phone went straight to T-Mobile's automatic bill-pay. Well, crap. See, this is what happens when you don't pay your cell phone bill for a couple months. So I paid my bill, and started to wonder/panic. What if she tried to call but got an automated message that my phone was cut off because I didn't pay the bill?! What kind of bum will she think I am?! So now what. Do I call her again?

Well, I didn't really see how calling her again would help. It could only make things awkward. What would I have said? "Uh...hi, it's Robert again. Just calling to see if you tried to call me back. Or...umm...if you didn't...then, if...ummm you still want to do
dinner. I realize this is the second time I've called, but my phone was disconnected so I wasn't sure if you'd called or not...so,
umm...right."

Too much potential for awkwardness, so I just left it alone. I figured, the next time I see her, I can just respond to whatever she says. If she says, "I tried to call you but your phone was off!" I can say (coolly, of course), "yeah, well. They tend to turn your phone off if you don't pay the bill for four months. Sorry about that. Want to try for this week?" This sends a message of "I have a devil-may-care attitude, and I'm not concerned with inconsequential things such as bills. Damn the man. And I'm good in the sack."

Or if she says, "I'm so sorry I never called you back! Wanna try for dinner this week?" I can say, "Nah, not really." This sends a message of "you had your chance, but I've moved on. I'm now an unattainable goal, and you must pour all of your resources into getting back in my good graces. And I'm good in the sack."

Well, she finally got back to me on Thursday night. Thursday night!! That's kinda rude, isn't it? Her text message (a text message, of course) read like this, "Sorry its taken me so long to get back with u...I have been working way too hard this week...hope u are having a good week...I will give u a buzz later."

Hmm...okay. Hmm...so now what. If I'm going with the whole "you missed the boat, honey" approach, I text her back and say, "don't bother." But I like the "I don't give a crap" approach better, since it allows me to not text her back at all. Which is what I did. Er, didn't do. I didn't text her back. Because, seriously, fuck her. That's just rude. But anyway, she called me again a couple days after that, buuuut she didn't leave a voicemail. Not sure what I'm supposed to do in that situation. Touche', Daisy. Touche'. So I just kept on ignoring her.

See, I'm overthinking this, but it's because she's really hot! I mean model hot! Well, maybe not model hot, but at least "one of those girls who dances at halftime during a basketball game" hot! We'll see what happens. I'm sure nothing.

Update: in my drunken stupor Saturday night I texted to see what she was up to. Thus giving away any and all power I may have had. Awesome.