Your friend writes to remind not to sweat the small stuff. She says: “You have been really happy of late, being your single self, writing, hiking, singing, etc.—in that place of not needing a relationship but thinking it sure would be nice, which in my mind is the best way to come into a relationship. So the extra-good news is that whatever happens with him, however intense or playful or long or short, it’s a really sweet bonus, right? Icing on the tasty cake of your life…which is evolving in ways you can’t even predict now..”
So right she is. And with this week’s last minute car repair (because a mutual friend of you and the smoocher’s hit your parked Volvo, causing about $150 in damage), you’re too busy to worry about the small stuff. Besides, your friend tells you, “He said you were beautiful! How romantic is THAT?”
Meanwhile, it’s only the first week of June and the July issue of Cosmo arrived in the mail today, along with the Victoria’s Secret summer sale catalogue. Receiving these items when you’re crushed out on a former co-worker and looking forward to your date this weekend is akin to going grocery shopping after a seven day fast. It is not, in other words, an entirely rational experience. You recycle the Vicky’s catalogue and hide the Cosmo deep in a stack of other, more intellectual magazines. You wouldn’t want your weekend date to come over and see “BITCHY BRIDES” and “100 WAYS TO DO GET OFF ON TOP” in bold neon pink letters, now, would you? N-O.
Still, part of you thinks the whole thing is going to be a bust. You know he’s had a horrible week at work and you know this because you used to work closely enough to still being the loop about the personnel changes in his department. You saw him almost every shift you worked for four years and now that knowledge is to your detriment, as you can only imagine what these latest changes mean for his availability. Your friend pipes in again, you can still hear her advice even hours after your phone conversation: “Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Onward, to greet Friday…which is the day before the weekend, which is apparently the entire point of this week in the first place.