The morning after my BU dating bust I decided to make a call. Well, it wasn’t so much deciding as it was pulling my hair out, vacillating whether to pick up the phone or not. I don’t know why it’s so difficult for us chicas to take that bold step, or why that step is so bold to begin with. We’re not conducing brain surgery or saving Mother Earth from aliens! It’s as simple as finding his name, pressing send and opening our mouths to speak. Besides, men call the majority of the time. Fabulous mujeres can take the same initiative, right?
So I did it. I proved by fabulosity and called Mr. G – the man whom I’ve been pining for since last summer – just to say “hello”. My fingers found his name. I pressed ‘Send’ and waited for the ring. On the first ring, my mind whispered, “Pick up, pick up, pick up.” By the third ring it yelled, “Crap! Why won’t he pick up?!” Seconds later, the machine answered instead of Mr. G. Should I leave a message or not? Aaaah! Another torturous decision! The machine beeped. No time to think! I blurted a quick “Hello” and ended with a “Call me!” before hanging up.
Now I had to wait. And that, ladies, is the most difficult part of this calling game. But I promise you this. No matter how many days pass or how many pelitos I loose, I will not initiate contact with Mr. G. As much as I believe women should take charge in love and sex, I also believe in courtship. Making that call may not save a life or planet, but I am a fabulous mujer. And I deserve a phone call, dammit!