Wednesday, July 9, 2008

I'll Tumble For Ya

This is the continuation of the blog down yonder. Just scroll a little. If you've not read about my laundromat liaison, you must read the previous post before going further with this one.

If you have read Tales From the Spin Cycle, then you're fully aware that I met a guy at the laundorama. You'll also be privy to the fact that his blog moniker is Running Man. In addition, you're in the know that I possess his phone number. Being completely void of calling protocol when given a number aka digits aka the proverbial ball, I had to consult the great and mighty pals at Their advice was unanimous: Call! Now! Don't wait! No games! So, you're saying I should wait a couple days? I'm thick as a brick. (Jethro Tull, thank you very much)

I didn't call him Sunday. I was struck with panic: What if it's a fake number? What's the chance he won't remember me? What if, if, if!?
Monday at work I asked one solitary male co-worker how long a woman ought to wait after being given a number of a man whom she met, say, in a laundromat. His reply was 72 hours. Seventy-two hours!? By then I'd figured he'd given up and be irritated that I hadn't called earlier and moved on to better things. Sheesh! A more sensible response came from a female co-worker who said to just call after dinner. "Have a drink and chill. Keep it casual and light."

Once home from work I cooked dinner. We consumed. I sat down at the computer and dilly-dallied. I forced myself to start writing Tales From the Spin Cycle. It was half way through that composition that the urge to talk to Running Man struck. I pulled his card from my purse and dialed after asking Man-cub if he needed anything, had any questions to ask or dilemmas to pose. With that the digits were pressed and the phone began to ring. I nearly succumbed to panic and hung up. Then, realizing he'd have my number, but totally unaware that it was me who prematurely disconnected, I held strong.


hard swallow

"Hi, D****. This is Marissa.... we met yesterday" my voice trailing off with an upward inflection. Totally idiotic-like.

"Marissa! Oh wow! I'm so glad you called. Every time my phone rang since yesterday and today with your area code I grabbed it with hopes it was you! "

... and so it went. For four incredibly enjoyable, seemingly quick hours we talked.

I surprised myself by being upfront about my philosophy on dating and being a single parent. His reaction not that of disgust but awe when I told him that I don't believe in co-habitation as a single mom. Words like "refreshing," "admirable," "grateful" were involved. He's a father of an 11 year old boy. His ex-wife is remarried. He feels similarly about not appearing as a hypocrite in his child's eyes. We agree that intimacy is wholly different from sexual intercourse.

My philosophy:

"Building a relationship on physical attraction and sex is like attempting to put the roof on a house before the foundation and walls are built."

It doesn't matter if anyone reading this agrees with me. I'm not asking for opinions. It's how I choose to live and prosper. I figured that would put an end to our call, but it seemed to only intrigue him further. Running Man wasn't bothered by it as the conversation continued for 3.5 more hours after having spelled that out. Call me a fool. Tell me he's a con. I'm not making judgement calls at this point. His beliefs are similar to mine. I'm accepting him at face value. Values.

Prematurely subjecting myself to torture is unnecessary and brutal. I want to ride this out and see where it goes. It might not go the distance. It could have ended with that long, gloriously pleasant phone call.

I do know this much: At a time when I feel like I've been put through the ringer, it sure feels spectacular to have someone switch things over to the delicate cycle.


  1. LOVERLY!!

    What did he mean, "Your area code"? Does he live in the big city? What on earth was he doing doing laundry in your town? (And remember, I know where you live, proximity-wise, to the big city...) Certain encounters are fated. I believe that 100%. :)

  2. Running Man is originally from Tinley Park. His cell phone has a 708 area code. He knows Kankakee has an 815.
    He moved to Kankakee so he and his son can spend more time together. TP isn't far, but being in the same town eases things.

  3. Wow, the guy went so far as to his watching for area codes. Sounds like he's just as giddy as you. All I can say is go with the flow, girl. You have a great game plan and standards that you aren't willing to compromise on. That says a lot about your character.

  4. As you know, I am deliciously excited for you. And good for you for just putting it out there. After all, if you're not adults about things why bother - you don't need no "scrub!" ;)

  5. HA! That song was on the radio yesterday and I thought, "damn right!"

    Thanks. It's been a long time since a man in real flesh showed me attention. So, I am desperately trying to keep my wits about me.

  6. You're doing a superb job, MissRiss. Keep it up.

    Rupe agrees with cdm above.

    Questions, questions: His name's "David", hmmmm? Or are you yankin' our chains? No need to answer; it's a rhetorical question .....

    You KNOW what Dr. Laura says about dating and kids. If'n she calls, tell her to toss off.

    Does he know about your site? That could be a bit awkward.

    Thanks for sharing. Rupe's ecstatic for you .....

    ................................................. Ruprecht

  7. Ruprecht is cracking up at the fact he just realized the title of this blog.

    That Rupe. He's a bonehead oft times .....

  8. Loved the way you tied the whole thing together metaphorically.

    Plus I'm happy you've encountered an apparently good man, one who gets you and has similar concerns.



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