3.Ten Ways To Tell He Likes You.(Why do these things always come in tens, let’s try sevens next time. Quicker. Less thinking.)
More later . . .
20 Feb. (later that day)
As it turns out I amnotmad and hallucinating and Icanhold my drink. Matt (that’s his name btw) is very real. In fact, Matt has been away on business this entire time. Because Matt is an actual adult with a real job—unlike myself. Matt, as it turns out, is a Quantitative Analyst. Of course I have no idea what that means, but nodded my head and made a note to Google it later.
(Googled: A quantitative analyst is a person who specializes in the application of mathematical and statistical methods—such as numerical or quantitative techniques—to financial and risk management problems.)
Okay. Now Ireallydon’t know what it means. But Matt is also rather confusing. Very.
He claims to only vaguely remember meeting me in the lift and no mention of the kiss. At all. He’s not even acting awkwardly around me. I’m not sure if I should be offended. No. Of course, I’m offended that he doesn’t remember that kiss. But things are still looking promising, because he did invite me to his house-warming party. Mind you, there’s still a possibility that Matt might turn out to be very boring. Very, quantitative-number-crunching boring. He could also be a total asshole. Men that look like he does often are. I’ve always noted that the hotter the man, the less developed his personality can be.
Anyhoo . . . I’ve decided to do the article onTen Ways To Tell If He Likes Yousince it will be very beneficial to know these things moving forward. So far this is the list:
1.He initiates conversation.
2.He listens and remembers what you say.
3.He leans forward when you talk.
4.He makes direct eye contact and smiles.
5.He compliments your appearance.
6.He teases you playfully. (This one reminds me of school days, when a boy would throw a ball at your head or snap your bra strap to convey his feelings. Maybe men really don’t change that much.)
I shall look out for these signs at the house-warming.
More soon . . .
CHAPTER FOUR
Here’s the big, fat universal truth about unrequited love . . .
It hurts.Period.
It holds you in its fiendish grip and it squeezes the life out of you. It makes you feel physically ill and turns you into someone with a single-minded obsession that rages inside your head day and night.Make him love me. Make him see me, make him love me. . . It’s exhausting and draining and constantly chaotic. And, eventually, it becomes completely all-consuming. It becomes the thing that defines you. Lovinghim, and not being loved back, becomes everything.
Profound, hey? Great insight, don’t ya think? I know, because I wrote an article about it once. As a freelance writer for various women’s magazines I write all kinds of articles about these very things:
How To Tell If A Man Just Isn’t That Into You.
How To Get Out Of The Friend Zone.
And of course . . .
How To Get Over Unrequited Love.
But you think I would take my own advice. What’s that saying about the shoemaker’s children having the worst shoes?Well, I was like that. Except now I only had one shoe. Not that any of the articles I write have any real basis in scientific fact or proven theory, though. The most research I do is typing something into the Google bar.
I was still sitting in my car on the side of the road. I was squeezing the steering wheel so hard that my fingers were about to fall off. I clenched my jaw; it felt like I might crack a tooth. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to will away the avalanche of tears that had been streaming down my face for the last five minutes. I was like the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike, desperately trying to hold it all back. But I was failing, and now, it was just spewing forth with the pent-up vengeance that was three, long, painful years in the making.
Because Matt was it.
If I couldn’t have him, then there was no one else for me. Of course my friends were all very fond of pointing out how utterly irrational that thought was. But it was what I’d thought every single day, at least ten times a day, for the last three years. I’d thought it so damn much that now I genuinely believed it. If not Matt, then who?
I glanced in my rear-view mirror, there were hardly any cars on the road at this time and no sign of THE BOSS, DIVORCED or Matt. I pulled back onto the road and started driving in the direction of my hotel. Matt and most of the engagement party were staying there and the prospect of bumping into them was more than a little horrifying. So as soon as I reached the hotel, I ran to my room and threw myself in.
