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The Feather

August 30, 2014

“I’m going chase a feather,” I said as I got off the barstool and headed to the Moon. 

Liz laughed. “That’s exactly what he is, a feather.”

After the “I can tell,” incident, The Feather (new nickname) actually contacted me. He asked me what time I would be walking in the park one day. I told him, assuming that he might show up and join me. He did not. He asked another day when I would be walking. I told him I was going to walk early because I had somewhere to be that evening. The next day, I invited him to join me. He was lying down on a bench by the pond when I found him. He seemed reluctant to join me. It was hot and humid. We walked for a while and he told me about his recent trip to Yellowstone. He doesn’t make me laugh but he has this little smirk that comes out at times that I find adorable. He doesn’t think I’m funny or at least doesn’t show it. Which is a shame because I’m hilarious.  

He asked me if I had read the book he loaned me. I was in the middle of reading it and we talked about it for a while. 

He abandoned me after three laps and I hugged him goodbye. I wasn’t going to repeat the grave mistake of vulnerability I had committed that Friday night when I had confessed, “I really like you,” and he had replied, “I can tell.” I was playing it cool. 

When I finished the book, I informed him so I could return it to him. We had a few missed connections. One day he suggested that perhaps I might want to see the rest of his collection and borrow another one. I thought this might be a ploy to get me alone so I dodged it. He hadn’t even taken me out on anything resembling a date. My interest in him was fading. I found him attractive but I couldn’t make him out and I really couldn’t tell if he was really interested in me or not, which is very unattractive. 

He invited me to see a documentary about the preservation of the french culture in New England. I did a little digging and decided that I would rather sit in an ant pile and listen to country music than sit in an uncomfortable folding metal chair, surrounded by the predictable crowd that attends such films and watch the standard message of preservation of culture that is hammered into modern day Acadians like a bad pop song. I wasn’t giddy enough about this guy to torture myself. I declined but mentioned that there was a movie I did want to see in theaters. 

When I saw the trailer for “The Hundred Foot Journey” I decided that I wanted to see it in a movie theater. But I didn’t want to see it by myself or with a girl friend. It’s a romantic movie. I wanted to see it with a man. I wanted to see it with someone I could make out with in the car when he brought me home. I wanted to hold someone’s hand while I watched it. So, I made a wish to the universe, “Send me a man I can go see this movie with.” 

So when The Feather brought up the documentary, I throw this out instead. He looked up the trailer and agreed that it was appealing. “Let me know when you’re free and maybe we can go see it,” I said. 

On a Wednesday he informed me that he would be at the Moon. It was a summons-like text. I needed to give him his book back and I was meeting Liz for drinks already. We were navigating an unwanted, long conversation with a local train wreck bachelor when I told her I had to go to the Moon to return the book. “What are you doing?” she admonished.

“I’m chasing a feather,” I admitted. 

I got to the Moon, my purse heavy with the book and he was no where to be found. I tried to text him. He has an unusually non-addictive relationship with his phone. I was about to leave when I spotted him near the stage. He was engaged in conversation with a woman. I was in no mood to compete for his fleeting attention so I waved from the steps. He called me over. I smiled at the woman, trying not to interrupt. “I have your book,” I said. 

“You can give it to me later,” he said and turned away from the woman. We talked about travel plans and books and he invited me to talk on the porch where it was quiet. We talked for a long time and I was struck again with ambivalence. He’s got that damned smile but I just don’t know what’s going on. 

Finally, I said I was going home and gave him the book. 

“Let’s go see that movie,” he said. “How about tomorrow night?”

I was surprised and pulled out my phone to make sure I didn’t have any appointments. “Ok.” I said. Maybe the universe was going to grant me my wish. 

I was at Liz’s about to tell her this little story when the wind swooped up and took the feather off in another direction. I got a text. “Let’s see the movie this weekend. I have to work late tonight. Sorry.” 

Right. “Yeah. Maybe.” I replied. 

I bemoaned this feathery behavior to Z who spoiled me with his decisiveness and forward motion. He told me I should give him one more chance. OK, Feather. It’s Saturday afternoon. You’ve been given a Z-inspired reprieve. 

Something tells me I’m going to be seeing a matinee of “The Hundred Foot Journey” by myself sometime soon. 




From → Rantings

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