Milo and I hung out today. We went to FSCJ to find both of our classes, and then we went to Target, and then to Steak ‘n’ Shake, where Kristen and Chris met us for lunch. Fun times.
On the way out, when we were leaving our house, we were just talking about random stuff, work, that sort of thing, and then I decided it might be a good idea to bring up the “Man-nizer” thing. (This is what they call me because of how I’m constantly being hit on in line and I apparently flirt with all of them.) I figured it couldn’t hurt my position. So I said, “Yeah, work is fun. They call me…they call me The Man-nizer. Haha.”
He said, “Why do they call you that!?”
“Oh…just because….” And I trailed off, and just let him wonder for a moment–but only a very brief moment, for then he said, “So…who is this John guy?”
Finally my moment had arrived. “Oh, John…we met in the cafeteria.”
I knew I had said just little enough so that he would have to ask a question, but enough so it didn’t sound like I was evading the answer.
He said, “Oh…do you hang out often?”
“Only once,” I said. And then, at last: “He’s Scottish,” with a huge grin. (Milo is very proud of his Scottish heritage so everyone has been telling me to bring this up and all attempts hitherto have failed.)
I don’t know exactly what reaction I expected. Perhaps a “But I’m Scottish!” (ha…right), or maybe even just an, “Oh…” trailing off into a thought of, “But I’m Scottish!”….
No such of a thing.
What he said, without even missing a beat, was, “So why aren’t you two dating!?”
This response, not being at all what I wanted to hear, drove me to anger. Not the visible sort of anger, just the anger where you realize you must now respond with friendly fire.
So without missing a beat either, I said, “Oh, we are!”
Then, realizing what I had just said (because I hadn’t exactly planned what the next words out of my mouth were going to be, they’d just come out)…I added, “Well, sort of. I mean, we did go on a date, but that’s it…but we’re going to go on another! This weekend…well not this weekend, obviously, because I’m busy tonight, but…over the week, or…well, no, not during the week, but probably next weekend. We’re going to do it again.”
Smooth. Very smooth. There’s simply no way I could have handled that with more grace.
“Oh, well, that’s good,” Milo said.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to show delight.
I keep finding more and more clues that he:
- does not really know what love is, and
- does not believe I know what it is, either.
His apparent delight at the idea of my suddenly being happy with another guy just because he’s Scottish–because now, that’s really the only thing Milo knows about John–says to me that he believes if I find another guy with his qualities, he will make me happy just for that reason.
He doesn’t understand that there is no other him, and that when you are in love with someone, you can’t just go and replace them with the first person you find with the strongest resemblance, or any resemblance at all, for that matter. He doesn’t understand. That’s my take on the matter, anyway.
But all that aside, we had a very good day. I’ve missed hanging out with him; it hardly ever happens, it seems.