Buying new underwear doesn't mean it's a date either.
Which I have painfully found out. As I write this I am sitting front of a computer that isn't even mine swilling beer and trying not to cry.
It's pitiful really, for all intents and purposes I don't even really know him, but I think that maybe, just maybe (and you're never sure) that I love him. There's just something about him (and I fear that it's the fact that I can't have him) that makes me fidget and blush and think of a mountain view, with the wind blowing gently and his hand held tightly in mine. I'm a sap maybe, I don't know, but I do know that I am painfully lonely and miss the warmth of another person who cares about me.
I'm not a pretty girl, but I'm funny. I'm not sexy, but I know my way around. I'm not thin, or striking, or graceful, but I thought just maybe I had a chance with this guy. He gave me just enough to think that maybe there was something there and it didn't hurt that everyone who saw us together would ask, "How long have you been together?" or the people who knew we weren't together would say,"You to just look like a couple!"
I think he's...amazing.
I can't really describe what I feel for him outside of that.
We were supposed to catch a movie and some Thai food and generally have a good time together. I would pretend it was a date and he would continue thinking of me a his "great chick friend", as I have been to so many men before him. I called to confirm earlier in the day and then went out to wish a friend a happy birthday at work and window shop. I ended up buying when the temptation became too great. You see, I found the matching olive drab bra to match the sassy olive drab underwear that I already had. I thought to myself, "I must have them! " You see the odd thing about women's undergarments is that to an extent they are empowering. I felt like "Commando Woman" with these on, like some invincible G.I. Joe chick, like maybe Scarlet, she was always my favorite with that fiery red hair and crossbow...What I'm getting at is that they would lend me a bit of confidence to maybe kiss him or at least tell him how I feel over a beer and a little Tom-Ka-Kai.
What I didn't know was that he wasn't going to call me back. I have three numbers I can use to get in touch with him and none of them worked. Maybe something serious has come up like an accident or illness, but I doubt it. This kind of thing always seems to happen to me. I just wish he had said, "Fuck off!" or "I've got other plans" or "I think I hear my mom calling me!"
Anything would have been preferable to sitting in front of a computer swilling beer and trying not to cry.