Transplanted Life
Thursday, August 28, 2003
Hard to get
Kurt called at around ten-thirty last night. He said he'd called before, which is definitely possible; Michelle doesn't have an answering machine. I ought to call Verizon and get voice mail, since for all I know, Michelle is trying to call me herself.

He asks why I wasn't at kung fu theater that night, the clear implication being that I was trying to avoid him. Even if you don't take into account that I told him about Coolidge/Allston's occasional kung fu series back in May, he just started going last week - even "Michelle" has been going longer. Pretty presumptuous to think that he's important enough for me not avoid it on his account.

Instead, I just point out that Jen had a date, I had to stop at the grocery store after work, I was only 100 pages into Clancy's new book, and I wanted to watch the Sox-Jays game. And, besides, I'm a bigger fan of Sammo Hung than Stephen Chow.

He doesn't seem to buy it, but we've both dealt with women long enough to know that no good can come of pursuing the line of inquiry further. Anyway, he asks if I'm free tomorrow night (well, tonight, as I write this). I tell him I guess I am, and he asks if it's okay if Wei and her boyfriend come along? Sure, why not? Heck, I've only seen Wei once since this whole thing started. That's almost as big a draw as hanging out with Kurt.

After I hung up, I wondered how many times I've thought a woman was playing hard to get when the truth was, she just had her own life. I don't think I was that egocentric, but I have to admit, there may have been one or two times when I thought some girl really wanted to be on a date with me (okay, I probably thought they wished they were having sex with me) but instead kept me at arms length so that I'd want her more, when if fact they were just lying on the bed in their underwear, reading the new book they'd bought the night before.

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