Over the last couple of days I have been flipping through the directory on my cellphone. There are a great deal of numbers in there that I have never dialed or have not dialed in some time. I attribute this to the "Give me your number but I won't give you mine" syndrome.
Many of my friends have asked me what to do when a guy asks for a phone number. I have had the same policy since age 20 or so -- "No, you cannot have my number but I will gladly take yours. If I am truly interested, then I will call you." When I started this policy, it was in the days before everyone having a cellphone. I had a bulletin board at home filled with business cards and napkins upon which were written phone numbers. (Kind of makes me feel like a guy. hehe) Once non-impaired, I would carefully think over my options. Was I really interested in that guy? If not, I would not call. But being a packrat kind of Cancer, I would not throw out the number either. Who knows? I might need it for a rainy day.
But then everyone got a cellphone and things changed. Now there are numbers listed in my cellphone and I have to strain my brain to try to remember who that guy is. And then there is the other group. I clearly remember who the guy is. The question in this case is whether I am ready to give up my one link of contact with him. Case in point being the Chef. As I scroll through the directory of my phone, I see his name. But he never called when he said he would. (Hell. It's been at least two weeks since he said he would call and he still hasn't.) So I know that he is not true dating material. But somehow I cannot make myself erase his number. Doesn't matter that I know that I still have it written down elsewhere.
What makes me hang onto these numbers? Could it be some societal dictate that one must be in a couple? I like to tell myself that this does not matter but life tells me otherwise. Because there are people in my life like Jade, my friend since age seven. She's totally into being a soccer mom. At times I inadvertantly learn that she has planned a girls' day -- for her friends who are married.
I like to think that I pretty independent. Yes, I know that I occasionally fall back on BofD (bank of dad) but for the most part, I take care of myself financially. Heck. The state teacher's retirement fund is mighty fine -- unless Arnie gets ahold of it -- but I still have a 403(b). I look to men to take care of me otherwise these days. And some of them do it exceptionally well. Like the Drummer Boy. Which is the real reason why I was peeved with him over this past weekend.
So while I'm cleaning out the clutter in my apartment, I can't help but wonder if I should also be cleaning out the clutter in my life.
But in honor of Silly, I did play some Barry on Monday night and danced around the living room. Don't know why the cats were in hiding. Maybe because they learned that "Sweet Melissa" was actually a dog -- literally.