Monday, April 11, 2011

Kismet Forces in the Library

Have you ever dealt with a situation that seems to be so overwhelmingly cosmic, you have no other choice to believe that it was a divine intervention? My friends, this was one was of those days. I woke up early, eager to cleanse myself of the negative events of the weekend. The best possible way of cleansing my soul that I am aware of is running. So I got up and I ran. I ran when the sun was just rising, when the Earth was damp and cold from the night time air, when I was the sole individual on campus. I put all of my emotions, all of my thoughts, all of my being into this run. It was amazing, to say the least. My head felt reattached to my body, the clearheaded Rach was back, and ready for the day. With newfound energy I popped back into my room, quickly showered and dressed, and then was on my merry way to breakfast (my favorite part of the morning!) That quiet morning did not foreshadow what was to unfold later on today.

After classes I found myself in the library, reading a book that many of you may be well aware of called "He's Just Not That Into You". Yes, there in the self-help section of the library I was splayed on the ground, head bolstered by my backpack, book resting on my stomach. There I lie on the dirty library floor in between the how to raise a child books and life after divorce books, plunging the whole worth of my consciousness into this little book. This little miracle book. I felt as if the book were speaking to me directly. Like the author reached through the feebly assembled words and slapped my face with the most daunting aspect of a relationship, the truth. It was here, on this day that I read the words "if he's not calling you, he's just not that into you". What a marvelous idea yet so simple. The events of the weekend seemed to shine like a beacon of hope in my heart. He. Is. Not. Interested. Move on, Rachie ol' pal. Find someone who will not stand you up, someone who arrives twenty minutes early for a date just because they could not wait to see you, one that would have asked for your phone number after the first night they met you. A guy who could not wait twenty four hours to call you and ask you out to tea (because I don't drink coffee). 

Then, a kismet force a fortuitous shock of energy vibrated my spirit...or it was my cell phone going off in my backpack which I was still using as a makeshift pillow, just call me Mrs. McGiver. Of all the people in the entire world to text me, it was the guy who stood me up. I know, right? Scandal. Look out Carrie Bradshaw because Rach the blogger is here to tell you all just what went down. Want to know the best part of this whole story? He reads this blog and will probably read this little vignette. This guy had the nerve to ask me out to lunch, after having left me hanging high and dry on Friday without even the glimpse of an apology. At first I was going to make up an excuse, then I was going to make a joke, finally as my last resource I decided to use the truth. The ugly naked truth that I had been avoiding for so long. I asked myself: Rach, how do you feel about this? I felt angry. I did. The best part in my response to the text messages was that I was truthful, that I let him know that hey he hurt me, and that no I would not be available for lunch. But best of all I let him know that I. Am. Not. Interested. Then I dropped the f-bomb, the grand daddy of curse words, the "f dash dash dash" word. 

His texts became more and more panicked in his realization of what he had done. That yes, in fact, Rach experiences the full spectrum of human emotions and that smile on my face is sometimes a facade. The apologies he sent were feckless, they have no meaning to me. Why? Because I am so over it. I am so over with dealing with caca that seems just to fall out of guy's mouths, the kind that you are supposed to believe. That you, as a girl, are supposed to wait there like a pretty china doll on the shelf only to be looked at and played with when beneficial for their sake. Nope, that is not how it is going to go down. I am a very strong girl, I have taken care of myself for a long time, but most of all I am smart. I know the difference between being pursued and being strung along. So for my health and my happiness I ended it, whatever it was. It has ceased and I feel relieved. I have realized that I would rather be very much single than tangled in a web of a murky quasi-relationship.

I will say it again: I am not interested! I am not! I am, essentially, free! My self-esteem no longer rests upon his decision to talk to me about whatever was going on in his life.

So, here is to chatting it up with John the Starbucks barrista who continuously upgrades my tall Chai Tea Latte to a grande, free of charge. The same guy who complimented me on my eating carrots.

Here is to the cute guy outside of a dorm on the other side of campus who looked me straight in the eye and smiled at me. Hours from that moment I finally came down from cloud nine because, oh boy, was he cute.

Here is to the guy in the dining hall who offered me a fork.

Here is to the frat guy who complimented me on my curly hair.

Here is to the guy who will one day sweep me off of my feet and say I am interested in you, my darling blogging Rach.

And now for an excerpt of "He's Just Not That Interested in You"

"One night I was drinking in a bar and flirting with the bartender. I asked for her number. She said, "I don't give out my phone number because guys rarely call me when they say they're going to. My name is Lindsey Adams, and if you  want to call me, find my phone number." Which I did -the very next day. Do you know how many Lindsey Adams there are in the phone book of a major city? Let's just say I talked to about eight or nine before I found mine. 

An actor we work with met a girl while he was making a public appearance on an aircraft carrier. he lost track of her in about ten minutes. And yet, because he was so smitten, he somehow managed to track her down in the army, and they are now married."

Even better:

"A friend of mine told a story about a date with a guy she was really excited about: He stood her up. He then called her, begging her forgiveness and giving some excuse. She told him to get lost, telling him that he only gets one shot with her, and he blew it. 

P.S. One could say she cleared the path for the next guy, who didn't blow it and is now married to her and treats her like a queen."


  1. I love this. :) I'm glad you told him the truth.
    The right guy will find you one day and be very lucky.

    I feel so empowered from reading this. Thank you for being such a fabulous writer and person.

  2. Also, last week this barista at the library complimented my shirt and then charged me for a $0.90 cheaper drink. Here's to him!!!

  3. I love both of your comments!

    After all, I am the Queen Litigator of the single girls :)

    But mostly, without you guys I would be talking to no one!

  4. Shoot. People are listening besides the two of us. Don't fret. You'll be a famous blogger one day and I'll just be your groupie forever booking your tour dates. :P