Choir Boy 2

Choir Boy's gonna think I'm an idiot. A stone-cold, obsessive, insecure idiot! No! NO! NOOOOOO!!!!!! (See yesterday's blog if you don't know what I'm talking about.) I send off another text, triple-checking that it's headed to Tariq before I push Send telling him the idiot mistake I've just made and forwarding the original text that went o Choir Boy. I need Tariq to tell me how to get out of this one gracefully--if at all possible. I have to be able to redeem myself somehow, right?

I am mortified. He's gonna think I'm nuts. Or maybe he'll think I'm grown up and honest and don't play games. I dunno. What would you think?

Trying to make light of the situation, I text Tariq again: Wed's blog... How texting is ruining my life.

120 seconds pass and Tariq doesn't hit me back. Neither does Choir Boy. I decide to turn my phone Off (which I NEVER do) for 20 minutes as a self-punishment for mis-sending the text. I tell myself I will cut myself off from the world for a third of an hour to teach myself a lesson. It's the worst punishment I can think of. But really, I can't bear the thought of reading Choir Boy's response. What if he says something? Worse, what if he says nothing? My mind is running in a thousand different directions that lead to a decaying brick wall like the one at the end of Brewster Street. The nothing that Choir Boy and I already had is now officially ruined. I won't even be his girl after this, now that he knows I'm crazy.

I down a glass of wine and try to think "well, fuck it! Que sera, sera."

Thirty minutes (an extra ten to teach myself an extra lesson) and another glass of wine, I turn my phone on. One new text message. (The rest of the world must have known I was on punishment. My phone is never this silent.) Tariq, a true friend, tells me it's not the end of the world.

"It's aight," T texts. " It happens, D. I would think she can't stop thinking about me... Good sign for me."

Though Choir Boy is yet to respond, I'm sort of convinced that I haven't killed my chances with him. A beam of hope edges through my dark cloud.

"You wouldn't think I'm a needy chick?" I type back to Tariq. "The thing is, he just texted me to hang out. I'm glad he invited me, but if he likes me shouldn't he want to hang out with me one on one? Like we party together a lot, but like, we never just hang out him and me."

Before Tariq can answer, a text comes through from Choir Boy. I put the phone face down on the counter and polish off another half-glass of wine. I have no idea what CB will say. I take a deep breath, flip the phone over and read his text.


He texted me to say sent his response to my email because his reply was too long?

Oh Shit.

I text to Tariq, who still hasn't responded to me. I think he’s annoyed that I’m blowing up his phone.

"Oh Shit! He responded. Sent the answer to my email because it was too much for my phone. I'm scared to check my email. LOL!"

T. tells me to woman up and check my e-mail. He doesn't have to tell me what he thinks dude is thinking because dude has told me himself if I would just check my email. I resist the urge to down another wine, (I'm not an alcoholic. Geez!) I take another deep breath and log on to MSN.

Choir Boy has apologized. Er? Explained what the hold up was on asking me out. What? Said he hoped the delay didn't hurt his chances of getting to know me better and furthermore, can he take me out for the evening on XXXX night?


Can life be this simple? That you ask what you want to know and a simple answer is delivered just like that? You tell someone what you want, and you get it?

I pour another glass of wine (I'm celebrating my epiphany this time) and text Choir Boy back, happily accepting his offer for a proper evening with me. I'm so pleased with myself that I sit on my counter and giggle like a toddler learning to work the DVD Player as I marvel at my profound discovery.

I asked what I wanted to know and I got the answer. Better than that, I got the answer that I wanted to hear. Can dealing with men (not boys) be this easy? Imagine if I did this in every aspect of my life.

I text Tariq my thoughts, updating him on my new theory to approaching life: ask and you shall receive. Can life really be this simple?

He writes back 30 seconds later: