Sunday, June 22, 2008

A Call is Made.

It happened.

It finally happened.

I wish I could say I made the long-awaited call while twirling the phone cord around my pointer finger, wearing a fluffy robe, laying on my stomach swaying my legs back and forth, under a canopy bed.

Actually wait. I don't wish that.

But allow me to set the scene. I had a few beers to calm my jangled nerves (I've also noticed that having a buzz seems to magically fast forward time, which I found to be a bonus when you're patiently waiting for something). The heat in Los Angeles has been unbearable lately and that night was no different. I was at my computer, in my boxers, sticking to my computer chair surrounded by (a FEW) empty Pabst cans.

I kept checking the clock to see what time it was. I can't remember exactly how many times Leo had to tell me, "Just fucking wait, man!"

At 1:44am Pacific Standard Time, I made a phone call to a cellular phone across the Atlantic Ocean.

And it was good. It was really, really good.

No awkward pauses. No uncomfortably silences. And the details of WHAT exactly we talked about kind of blur together. Just the normal things you'd talk to anyone about really.

Before I knew it, my Skype credits were close to running out; Caitlin and I had been talking for a little over an hour.

So@24: Well... I suppose we could try out our webcams?
Caitlin: Well, I suppose we could.

So. We took the next big step in whatever the staircase is when you begin communicating with someone who reads your blog (oooh, that just occurred to me that could get messy... perhaps a post for another time). And we talked longer and by the time I went to bed to catch some sleep for work the next day, it was 3:42am.

And we've talked almost every day since.

* * *

I'm not sure what exactly is going on. Perhaps nothing. After all, she is 5,174 miles away. But it's fun, it's exciting, and it's something that I haven't felt in a long, long time. I can't remember the last time I woke up early and grinned like an idiot because I got a text from a girl.

But it's also terrifying. That giddy feeling is not the only feeling that has come back. Those nagging, back of your mind, single guy whose vulnerable questions...

Is she just bored and I happen to be a pleasant distraction?
Why is this cute*, sexy, smart, witty (god, she's a walking cliche'), single girl showing any interest in me?
She must have a million other guys who are chasing after her... who live in the same country!
Wait a second, how many other blogging guys is she striking up convos with??

...

I'm probably getting way too ahead of myself.

But who knows? Maybe right? I've heard it can work...



* guys love foreign accents as much as girls do. Trust me, she has a cute one.

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