Boys

"Um," I say, trying to make it sound unrehearsed, "by the way I changed my mind about him."

We're on the phone making movie and ice skating plans but I have just stopped the conversation.  It hovers for a moment, my friend's attention having turned from teaming up bored parents to a sudden crack in my iron resolve.  She waits one beat, two maybe.  It's all suspended over the line and I like that.

"I don't know what you mean," she says.  If I could reach through and pull at the string of her shirt, unwind and steal a little, that's what I'd be doing.  I want some help hooking up but I am never going to say it that clearly.  I'm 33, for god's sake.  Isn't that too old for leaning on matchmakers and fake-accidental meetings?

"I''m game, " I say.  She's been trying to hook us up for over a year now, but I've been way too busy either obsessing over my relationship or obsessing over my break-ups to be capable of such fun.  Casual dating? Just hanging out to see if I like it?  Oh!  The lack of punishment!  I couldn't.

I can, and want to.  If I am going to make light of the hick and of my libido in general, I need to spread out the load.  And explore, and not hide like a nun.  Therefore: attempt at pretend surprise playdate with charming, unflappable single father of three whom I've been watching for over a year.  Possibly he will ask me out?  On a date?  With food and NOT obsessive freaky expectations, and just, fun?

I'm game.