I Don’t Think Being a Spaz Counts as Flirting

I don’t think being a spaz counts as flirting. But I don’t know how to do anything else today.

I have “sort of” a date with Cute Guy from the office today. We are “sort of” having lunch. A late lunch, because we both have kid duties after school, and the premise is a drink. But nothing solid is planned. So I “sort of” woke up at 4 am, wide-eyed, remembering immediately that I am supposed to be light, and carefree, and talk only of superficial soulful things, whatever the Hell that is. Sara told me yesterday that is best, and to be flirty and just “have fun”. “WHAT?!”

I have forgotten how to flirt. I am trying not to count the months since I last had a date, trying to remember that I am an attractive, smart, interesting woman with nice legs. But then I remember that I have to work 8 hours before this lunch, and I have a meeting at 1, so Spaz-Girl wonders if 2 or 2:30 counts as late lunch. We didn’t really plan a specific time or place or plan… There was more mumbling than planning.

Then the Crazy Girl steps in and says “Oh, he will probably blow you off anyway, so you better blow him off first”. Then Spaz Girl chimes in “Maybe you should go running right now? How about some caffeine? Is there any laundry to do? Does the dog need a bath? You have 2 hours until kids wake up. You could bake a pie”.

Zen girl steps up and says, “Maybe a little meditation? Read the Bible? Read that boring book about travelling in India and take a nap!”

Spaz Girl: “I could call SG, she was on Match for months and remembers how to date, except that she is a blog friend, and lives in Great Britain, maybe, I can’t really tell where she lives, actually I don’t even know her name, so I cannot call her. Maybe Struggling Dad could tell me what to wear today- something soft so he will touch my shoulder or back and like it and want to touch me more. But I of course have no idea where that blogger friend lives either. I think he is Australian? Oh my God, what if Cute Guy and I have nothing to say to each other and just stare like 2 deer caught in headlights?” Sandy is laughing now and wants to call me (call!).

Mark would be laughing too, telling me “You are fine, just enjoy, smile a lot, let him look into your pretty brown eyes”. All Spaz Girl can reply is, “Oh my God, I need a couple of drinks if you want me to make eye contact. How old am I? Way too old to act like this…” So Crazy Girl decided to write a blog, imagining your comments and answers. Melissa would quietly cheer me on. Liz would cheer me on very loudly, with LOTS OF CAPS, thankfully. Delia would send me some awesome energy. But, I am still hyperventilating, and you won’t read this until Saturday, when it is all over, because there is some mysterious lag time. It takes a day for things to show up in your subscription box.

“Agh” Crazy Girl insists I am alone, and stupid for doing this. I work in the same office with him. What if it is a disaster? Bhanu would insist nothing is a disaster; it is all a learning experience.

So many topics are off limits- nothing serious, Sara said… No divorce talk, no kid talk, no work talk, no politics talk, no religion talk, no energy talk, no money talk (ever, she claims), no boss talk. So what does that leave? Skiing, dogs, snow, and vacations (or does that qualify as money/work talk?)

I have to think positive, light, he is just a friend, I am enjoying adult company, we have a lot in common to talk about… So I will focus on breathing, pray that God will remind me how to flirt (If it is His will for me; Oh Crap- it better be His will!), run with the dog, focus on work, turn this over to God, and stay away from garlic and onions.

There better not be any kissing, hugging, or implications of it (although I have only been fantasizing about such). That would flip me out completely. It is 4:52 am, is it too early for a shot of vodka? (Just kidding. I know, “Don’t drink too much and say something stupid! Liz and SG would say”).

You are all going to have to come with me and hide in the bathroom.