Desperately Seeking Signals

by John E Budzinski

© 1992

There is a new book out dealing with the battle of the sexes and I for one would not be too disappointed it if never hits the New York Times best seller list. The book, written by Dr. Joy Browne,  is called, "Why They Don't Call When They Say They Will and Other Mixed Signals".  It is another book in the seemingly endless line of recent male bashing books and I am one male who thinks it's time to take a stand.

Dr. Browne's book does have some balance as it does try to put into perspective the male/female relationship.  The main theme of Dr. Browne's book can be discovered by reading the book's dust cover:  Men and women, will they ever understand each other?  In words of one syllable, the answer is NO! Never! Forget it! There really is no need to thumb through a couple hundred pages to discover that.

I guess maybe I have become too defensive about this subject because I don't ever remember a man writing a book like Dr. Browne's called, "Why Can't A Woman Be More Like A Man."  Why not!  After all, women are not the only ones who give out their phone number only to realize that the phone will never ring.  I recently had a similar experience. I gave out my number to a woman and now I am waiting for her to call me.

Linda and I met via the classified ad she placed in a singles' magazine. I am not sure why Linda's ad caught my eye or why I responded to it.  Maybe it was some word or words she used or the feeling the words conveyed when they were put together. It may have been a spur of the moment thing, or maybe a moment of loneliness overcame me.

Whatever the reason, I did send a letter to the number listed in her ad. I have answered ads in the past so I am a little more than a neophyte at answering them. I have found out it is always best to be a little funny, creative, sensitive, and above all Honest.  It is also a good idea to give your phone number so she will be able to contact you. I also have always given my full name and address, and the number of the local police and FBI agent just in case the woman wants to check up on me. (Hey, I have nothing to hide - except from the IRS.)

Well, Linda got my letter and did give me a call.  We talked for a while and had a very nice conversation. I wanted to get her number so I could call her. She didn't give it to me, though. Maybe she had read Dr. Browne's book. She did say she would call me again, though. I figured she was being polite to didn't think anything of her comment. I didn't expect to get a second call.

About ten days later a second call did come, however, and, we did arrange to meet. We met for the first time on Sunday evening at a local restaurant (it was a fav of mine) that had a jazz quartet playing.

Now, I am very comfortable in who I am and aside from a healthy, normal amount of blind date jitters I usually am not all that nervous in situations like this. After all, I meet new people all the time as a normal part of what I do as a freelance writer and photographer. This time, however, I was more than a little over the edge and nervous about meeting her, and I am sure it showed. Anne, the waitress, kept smiling at me every time I looked at my watch. She obviously could read me after all the time I had spent there and she knew exactly what I was up to. 

Linda was a little late and just as I was going to give up on her showing up, she walked in. She looked just like she sounded on the phone, kind of petite, about 5'2", and she was very cute. Most people don't look like they sound on the phone. Linda did and I realized then why I was nervous - I knew from the phone conversation that I was going to like her. As we sat there contemplating appetizers I glanced over the top of the menu. I smiled as I realized I was right. I did like her - right away. I think she may have felt the same as she picked up on my little game of keeping the menu high enough to cover up an infatuated smile.

Our dinner conversation took many directions and we covered many topics including some that I never thought I would talk about with a stranger on a first date, like, did I feel loved as a child. The very fact that I would talk about such subjects says something of how relaxed I was talking with her. There were no violins, and no fireworks exploded, but, there were some sparklers dancing and I know I heard a kazoo or two playing in the background.

It is hard to say how I felt about her except to say that I did like her and wanted to see her again - real soon! We said goodnight, and although she wouldn't give me her phone number, she did say she would call me. Two weeks have passed and Linda has still not called. It's tough not having destiny in you own hands. If I had her number, I would have called her - two or three times! 

Dr. Joy Browne may not understand how I feel about Linda not calling but even if the phone remains silent, I still have added another page to the scrapbook of my mind.  I had a wonderful evening spent in the delightful company of a very charming and cute lady. There was nice conversation, terrific company, good food and wine, and great jazz. When I flip through that page in the future, I am sure to smile. Who could ask for anything more!

Epilog: The day after I sent the above story in to my editor, the phone rang. Yep, it was Linda. I laughed and told her she had just caused me to have a slight problem. I didn't tell her all the details -- at least not yet. We talked for a while and made a date to meet again for dinner in a few days. I called my editor with a small change to my story, but, he said it was fine as it was bud did agree to put an amendment at the end of it telling the readers of our conversation, Linda's call, and our date plans. 

Linda couldn't hold it in any longer. She broke out laughing uncontrollably and  said, "I knew there was a reason I wanted to see you again!" Just then, the champagne she ordered came. (I found out another time we were at the same restaurant that she had called in advance to arrange for the bottle). She sat down and we drank a toast, and then another, and then . . .  to Joy Browne.