Jitter Bugs

It took what felt like the longest five seconds of my life, but the line eventually connected and the phone on the other end started to ring. When the high-pitched broken muffling of a poor connection became evident, panic began to set in the pit of my stomach, causing it to make incoherent sounds not of this world. The second ring consisted of an even more unbearable connection. The third ring never came, or maybe it came but the voice on the other end didn't, or perhaps the length of the pause in between rings tortuously dragged on for dramatic effect.

I hung up the phone and, resigned, stared at the small object in the palm of my hand in a defeatist way. All the technological advancements in the world couldn't help me grow balls. Cowardly? There's no app for that.

I took one last undesired drag and flicked my cigarette out into the mocking darkness and walked back in to my one bedroom apartment. Somehow the small shelter felt much larger and emptier than it did when I walked out onto the deck mere minutes prior. One thing about me, whenever I'm about to make a phone call where I know nerves will get the best of me and latch on to every appendage associated with my five senses, It's absolutely imperative to make it with a smoke. Blaze of Glory? Ha! More like a Blaze of Cancer. Within seconds of relieving my hand of the burden of the phone onto the night table does the uncomfortably startling buzz of the vibrating furniture cause me to jump up and the familiar tinge of neurosis saturate my body.

I left the phone screen-side down so as to not see who's calling unless I actually pick it up. I guess it's my way of convincing myself that if I don't see the call, it didn't happen. Shame my ears still work though.

After a little self-deliberation, I picked up the phone and instantly recognized the number as the one I just called. In my losing bout with nerves, I neglected to realize that caller ID has existed for almost 20 years now. I let it ring a couple of times, not because I didn't want to seem overeager because my hand simply refused to lift itself anywhere remotely close to my face and my mouth numbed as if I had been sucking on ice cubes for the last hour. With every bit of strength I could muster, I jerked my arm up and pressed the 'answer' button. Here goes nothing.

“H-hello?” I thought I sounded pretty smooth, but it probably came out like something resembling, “Glooosh?” Confidence has never been my forte.

“Oh... hi. Someone just called this number,” It was just as I remembered. She still had a voice like an angel.

“I did... Hi,” I cleared my throat in a desperate attempt to stall.

“I figured it was you. Um, who is this?” Her tone contained all the assurance I wish mine did.

“Hi, uh... sorry.” I cleared my throat again, this time more to allow myself to breathe than a time tactic. I then took a deep breath and smiled to no one in particular. “Sorry, this is Greg. I don't know if you remember but we met at the Blenz down on Robson a few days back.”

“Oh!” Her voice virtually dissolved from poise to insecure with just a few words. “I wasn't sure you were going to call... n-not that I was waiting for your call, because I wasn't... well, I was but...” The ball was back in my court.

I chuckled at how quickly her demeanor changed and it filled me with a renewed vigor that I still had that effect on someone who made me feel the same way, turning me into a slack-jawed stammering idiot. “I had no intention of not calling.” Now was the time to turn on the charm. “It's not like I go around asking for every girl's number just to never call.”

She laughed, slightly uncomfortably. “Well... I don't know. Maybe you do!”

“Ok, I do, but usually every tenth one I'll follow through, you know, to keep up appearances,” It was a bold attempt at humor. What girl doesn't like it when a guy makes fun of his own arrogance?

“Haha... I see. So I'm lucky number ten?”

“Well, I lose track all the time, so for argument's sake, I'll say yes.”

We both laughed for a while until the inevitable uncomfortable silence set in. It's a damn near guarantee that silence will always trump comfort. Where did we go from there? I decided to take a chance, but she beat me to the punch.

“So what do I win?”

“Excuse me”

“For being number ten, what's my prize?”

Bonus points to her for making this easy. “Well, as our grand prize winner, we have a bevy of options for you,” This was clearly a girl who loved to laugh and loved surprises... I hope. “Option one is a nice home cooked meal at Casa Greg.”

“Hmm.. “ She giggled, playing along. “What are my other options?”

Since she seemed to dig my somewhat risque sense of humor, I continued to push the boundaries. “Well, as a woman, I'm sure you'll love this lovely dinette set and silverware.” I immediately regretted taking this route, which was met with a deafening silence. Thankfully she put my panic out of its misery.

“Oh wow, tough choice for a lil ol' domestic lady like me. I'm gonna have to go with the dinette set and silverware, Greg.”

“Excellent choice, however you will have to come pick them up from here at Casa Greg seeing as I don't have a spare set. There may or may not be an accompaniment of food with them when you do come.” The prelude to a date disguised as a mock gameshow presentation.

“Hmm... well it better be a nice set seeing as I have to go all the way there to pick it up.”

“Limited time offer, as in limited to Friday night?” I hope I didn't sound too beggarly.

“Friday works.”

“Great, I'll see you then. 7 works?”

“7 is perfect.”

The tension on both our ends at the beginning of the conversation has somehow transitioned into what felt like a relaxed catch-up between two old friends.

“Great, see you then.”

“Greg?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, where do you live?”

I chuckled, embarrassed by my own relative stupidity. “I guess that would help. 782 Dunbar, apartment 815.”

“Got it. See ya on Friday.”

“Friday.”

-Click-