I checked my phone messages yesterday, and there is a message from Sharon, one of the women from the birthday dinner the other night. Sharon is a trainer, and she does facials on the side. Here’s the message:
“Paige, this is Sharon. Listen, a bunch of us are going out to dinner on Saturday night, and I wondered if you wanted to go. We’re going to dinner at PF Chang’s, and then, we’re going to catch a movie. Oh, and my friend, Scott, has been asking about you. He really wants to see you again.”
See what I mean about the amygdala?
I call her back and get her machine.
“Sharon, tomorrow night sounds like fun. Give me a call back.”
She calls me back.
“So, what do you think about Scott?” she asks. “He keeps asking about you. He never asks about anyone.”
“Well, he seems nice, and I don’t mind going out with him. But I’m not looking for anything, Sharon. I’m just not into it.”
“Oh, well, he’s not looking for anything either,” she says, too quickly. “He just thinks you’re hot, and he wants to get to know you. ”
What a shining recommendation.
“So what’s his deal anyway?” I ask. “He told me he works in a warehouse. I feel so bad, but I laughed at him.”
“Paige, he doesn’t have to work. He just does that because he likes physical labor. He owns, like, three houses and a boat. He’s a millionaire. He’ll totally spoil you.”
“That’s okay. I’m good.” I’m not sure I want anything from this guy yet.
The next night, he picks me up, and it’s okay. We have dinner. Sharon’s date cancelled on her, so she’s cranky. The movie was lame. But I have to hand it to him Scott was a perfect gentleman. He didn’t push. He didn’t overdo it. He was totally fine. There just was no connection. Nothing.
I’m not ready to give up yet, though. When he brought me home tonight, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him to call me.