Tuesday, October 03, 2006


Overwhelmingly, the signals from Owen are positive. But put one negative thing out there and I can't ignore it. I can't weigh the evidence and think, "Wow, he really likes me. We get along great and we have so much fun together. I'm happy!" No. Instead I think, "Maybe this age thing is a real problem and he's going to break it off as soon as possible."

I told (work friend) Nancy about my weekend with Owen and she seemed pleased and happy. I said, "I'm feeling gloomy. I also have the urge to flee."

"Because there isn't a problem."

"I guess. But there IS a problem. You'd think the problem would get me all excited about things." But no, the "problem" just gets me anxious. (It doesn't help that I'm still freakin' sick. I've got some serious stomach something that I can't shake--it's bananas, rice, toast and applesauce for me for the next few days. Owen actually urged me to go to the doctor. I have a previously scheduled appointement on Friday, so if I'm still suffering, I'll bring it up then.)

So I wait for him to call and he doesn't call and I get worried. Then I don't worry. I decide to wait for him to call. And he doesn't call. So I call and we chat and I want to ask him why he didn't call but I don't. And everything is fine. But he's going to get off the phone and we haven't made plans so I make some noises about that and he says, teasing me, "Why are you getting all pathetic when I need to go to sleep?"

I'm stunned into silence. "I don't know what to say."


"You totally called me out on being pathetic. I don't know what to say now."

"I guess I haven't been on your side of it so I don't know what to tell you. If you want, we can do something this weekend."

"Look, I'm sorry. I get a little anxious and I don't know what to think. And I'm sick! I get extra pathetic when I'm sick."

"I'm so cutting you slack for that."

"Gee, thanks." Medium pause.

"Well, uh, do you want to hang out on Friday? We're having a party after work…"

"Uh, ok. Um, look, I don't want to pressure you…"

"No, I was going to invite you. I had a special request for you…"

"Oh? From whom?"

"From a woman at work."

"From Mary?" Mary is the only female co-worker of his I've met.

"No, from Bonnie."

"Bonnie? You had a request for me from someone I've never met?"

"Uh, yes."

And I started laughing. I kept laughing.

I've told several friends, three people from work and one parent about Owen (and the entire internet). Who has Owen told? Apparently, everyone at work.

Only someone as old as I am could be this dumb. What am I worrying about? He's the one who thinks we'll "be together in November." I guess I don't quite trust that, so I'm getting anxious. Bad anxious! Go away!

If it ends tomorrow, I'll be fine. Sad, but fine. But if I don't get my head in the game, it will end that much sooner, that's for sure. I choose not to be anxious.

Grateful for: the end (hopefully) of anxiety.

Drop me a line.

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