Carrie is a redheaded southern girl living single in Austin, Texas. With no tax credits. She writes like she talks. Twang and all. She believes in God, high heels and lipgloss. No woman should be without. Read more at A Sassy Redhead.
If I gotta break a man’s heart, I really prefer it be a man I know.
Call it high standards, call it being picky…that’s just how I think it should go.
It’s easier if you know him. Trust me.
Since I just recently discovered my 25-year high school class reunion is being planned, everything is a-buzz. Phone calls are going back and forth, emails are being sent by the masses and a Facebook friend-request is the new oh-my-God-this-skirt-fits-again-but-do-I-really-want-to-wear-it?
Kinda exciting, kinda…eh?
A girlfriend I’ve had since 2nd grade and I have been phone calling back and forth giggling over this whole reunion thing coming up.
”Are you dressing up?”
“Did you hear they divorced?”
“Surely I won’t be the only single one there, huh?”
“Was he gay in school?”
“Girl, I heard she is still a slut.”
I received a called my office the other day and I immediately knew it was her by the 817 area code showing up on my caller ID. I couldn’t talk then so I let it ring.
About ten minutes later, I picked up the phone to call her back.
(And the only thing worse than having to check a voicemail that simply says, “Hey, call me!” is having to leave a voicemail that simply says, “Hey, call me!” Won’t. Do. It.)
Within no time, 817 pops up on my caller ID and I grab it.
Him: “Uh, hey?”
Me: “Well, what?”
Him: “Uh, I’m sorry…but…”
(Oh. I get it. She’s a prankster. Has been since 2nd grade and I’m not really in the mood for it right now. But I’m prepared. I’m sure she thought it’d be cute to have a male co-worker call me back. It ain’t.)
Me: “Put her on the phone and tell her she’s NOT funny.”
Him: “Ma’am, you called me. I was running for the phone a minute ago and just missed your call.”
(I feel like the owner of whatabigassfatassjackass.com at this point. Bad enough that I deserve ‘ass’ shoved in there three times.)
(In my mind, even though she’s apparently not involved in this, I’m going to kill her anyway.)
Him: “So, you’re not from the University of Texas?”
Me: “Oh, no. I was calling a friend of mine and must’ve dialed you by mistake. I am so sorry for bothering you.”
Him: “Oh, I knew you were calling from Austin by your 512 area code. I’ve applied to the university and they said they might be calling about my application today and I was just hoping you were them.”
Then he fake chuckles and it is a very heartbroken and wounded fake chuckle.
My breathing comes to a halt. And I’m pretty sure my pulse slowed up.
This poor guy had been waiting on a call regarding his future and instead, gets me.
My heart sank. It’s like I could hear his hopes plummet and just start bouncing all around my feet.
I immediately go into let’s-cheer-this-guy-up mode.
Me: “Oh, no…but I DO live in Austin. I’ve been here for 8 years. You will love it…it’s a great city! Loads of stuff to do, very unique from anywhere else I’ve ever lived. Our motto is ‘Keep Austin Weird’ after all! I bet you get a call back from them. It’s a great university, too. It’s located close to downtown so you can walk most anywhere….”
AND I GO ON AND ON AND ON FOR WHAT SEEMS LIKE HOURS. I WON’T JUST SHUT UP.
Finally, he breaks in.
Him: “Thanks, ma’am. I appreciate that. But I’m going to go ahead and hang up now in case they are really trying to call.”
(Total code for Creepy Lady Alert! Creepy Lady Alert!)
(As well as code for, “Do you happen to own whatabigassfatassjackass.com?”)
I apologize one last time and hang up.
Feeling a little sad for him. And feeling a little hopeful for him. At the same time.
And that’s why I now insist on knowing any man whose heart I must break. Somehow, knowing him just makes it a little easier.
And I now realize since my 25-year high school class reunion is upon me…I’m old enough to be his mother.
Great. Friggin’ great.