the waiting game

There's not a whole lot worse than a single girl, waiting around for a guy. You make plans with someone, think that they are pretty confirmed based on a phonecall the night before to the tune of, "I miss you and am looking forward to seeing you." Would make sense then to pretty much assume the get together is in fact, well, happening. Until it doesn't. Until it's 8:49PM on a Tuesday night, you were supposed to get dinner, and instead you're watching E True Hollywood Story, with your cell phone under you, on vibrate. You figuring if you have it on vibrate you'll at least be able to feel it. Because if it's just on ring, well you might not hear it, and then, holy god, miss his call.

But you don't miss his call. Because it doesn't come. Until 2AM that night. But it's not a call, it's a damn text. "I had to work a double. Sorry I didn't call sooner." You're pissed now because your phone is still on vibrate and the damn text has woken you up. You throw your phone and knock over a picture of you and your girlfriends on a boat last summer. Shit.

I've done this. I've been this girl, and really who hasn't? Haven't, at some point in time, all women been this girl? It's pretty much a fact. We've all been there. In some way or another. Waiting on a guy. We do this. And then we do it again, even after a time when we swore we'd "never wait for a guy again." There we go, again. The waiting. Hoping for a different result, round number 11.

The result is the same every time.

It's at some point in the waiting game, that we remember how cute he is. And how the last time we were together he said he liked the smell of your shampoo. "What is it, coconut?" he asks. You remember his yummy smelling cologne, and how you just couldn't get enough of it, and him. And you remember how he sweetly pushed your hair out of your eyes, how he pulled you into him during a really great hug, and you remember the sex.

But while you're waiting, and remembering, all that stuff, it slowly begins to fade away. There those good memories go, slipping away with the minutes that he hasn't called, still. At first it's what gets you excited. And what keeps you excited, anticipating that vibrate of the damn cell phone for a while. But as hours pass, you're halfway through a bag of Pirates Booty, and two hours into the Janice Dickinsin, True Hollywood Story, you begin to sort of dislike the things that you were remembering, and thought just hours ago were ohsofreakingcute.

No, it's not coconut shampoo, dumbass. And he always wore so much effing cologne. Doused in that stuff. And your hands are rough, please don't touch my face. You begin to remember how you felt suffocated when he pulled you in tight like that during that half-assed hug. And the sex? Yeah, it wasn't that great, really.

And this happens. This waiting game that we do as girls. And at a certain point, enough is enough, right? At some point, a line must be drawn. You will no longer wait around for his call. Won't not make plans on a night when you think you might have them with him. You will no longer look forward to his calls, because you know they will be laden with excuses of late nights at work, family commitments, watching the game with friends... all instead of calling you. Getting back to you. Keeping plans, with you.

And one day, all of it clicks. You realize you are worth more than waiting around for a guy who makes promises that are forever unfulfilled. You realize that the idea that you have in your head of this guy is a complete farce. Yeah, he may be nice and sweet and ohsocute in the moment, but when it comes down to it, where's the real meat of the matter? You realize you deserve so much more than a guy who can't fit you into his schedule. You realize although you don't want an always available man, you do want someone who will make time in his life for you.

So the waiting thing? After quite some time, after many consumed calories, empty wine bottles, and swearing off the vibe option on your cell phone, you realize, the waiting? It's way overrated.