Despite yesterday’s theorizing, the truth is Date #7 received my letter, liked my letter and called me to discuss its contents just as I was getting ready to go to bed. But the truth is boring, and you don’t really want to hear all of the sappy details do you?
Of course you don’t. (And if you think you do, you’re wrong. There’s nothing less entertaining than a young woman in the early throes of a new romance, especially when that romance involves very little in the way of high heels and cocktails.)
Personally, I think its way more fun to speculate about the myriad reasons why I had not heard from Date #7, especially when you’ve got someone else to do it for you.
And so, for the start of this morning’s entertainment, I’d like to offer another five theories, as written by fellow blogger and serial dating extraordinaire Zak of Slow Down, Son. (And then I promise I’ll get down to actual contents of the evening’s conversation.)
5. Mail truck catches on fire and/or mailman hordes mail.
6. Date #7 can’t read.
7. Aliens invaded the earth. They started in Pittsburgh (why?), and when the Men in Black arrived to save the day, they had to wipe everyone’s memory of the alien attack. In doing so, they inadvertently wiped Date #7′s memory about the letter, and so he’s left wondering who this “Kat” gal is. Like forgetting Kat could happen!
(Thanks, Zak. I knew I liked you.)
8. Date #7′s mom is busy showing the letter to her friends, and he has yet to read it.
9. Date #7 got a really bad paper cut and he’s afraid of opening the letter any further. Perhaps the massive quantities of perfume have given him and infection?
Unfortunately, none of these things actually happened. The real explanation is that Date #7 received my letter several days ago but needed some time to “process” it.
I’m sure you’re all wondering what was said during this conversation but out of respect for the other party involved here, I’m not going to say much— not too much anyway.
I am pleased to report that he clearly appreciated all the effort I put into my letter—from the stationary right on down to my picture-perfect script (and no, I’m not kidding. He’s rather sensitive when it comes to aesthetics and you’ve got to appreciate it when a straight man takes notice of such things).
Halfway through our conversation he asked, “That line where you said such-and-such… did you really write that? I mean you must have been quoting from somewhere, right?”
It was all I could to keep from shouting, “Um, seriously? Have you forgotten who you’re dealing with? Of course I wrote that!”
But shouting isn’t good. Nor is my somewhat acerbic brand of sarcasm. So instead I politely seized the opportunity to inject some humor into our relationship (because right now it’s rather humorless and entirely too reminiscent of my deep-thinking high school years).
“Ooh, yes,” I replied, “that was a good line wasn’t it? Now you know why the damn thing took me seven drafts!”
In hindsight, my response doesn’t seem as funny as it did at the time— I guess you had to be there, but for now you’ll just have to take my word for it and get ready for tomorrow’s post because its gonna be a good one.
PS: I’d like to issue a public apology for that horrible, nasty looking cat I included in yesterday’s post. I was trying to find an image of a cat eating mail to illustrate my point about the many misfortunes that could have befallen my letter but evidently cats don’t actually eat paper.