From hundreds of texts a month (or so my cell phone bill says) to maybe three per week.
“Benson is on fire today.”
“You’ll win fantasy if Moss starts catching some passes.”
“Ugh Hasselbeck sucks.”
All football. Something was up.
“You should just ask him,” M. said. “Ask him why you haven’t heard from him.”
I sat at my work computer, heart beating like a bass drum against my ribs. We were talking football. Again. Finally he noticed I was barely responding.
“I know you love all this football chatter.”
“Well… sometimes I do.”
Long silence. Internet pause.
“So what’s new?” I finally ventured. “Feel like I haven’t heard from you much lately.”
“Hmm really? Nothing much. Work. Gym. Chilling.”
I don’t know what I expected. Well, Lauren, I’m seeing someone. And while I wanted to tell you, it was just too hard.
“You have to ask him,” L. said. “Bite the bullet. You’ll feel better if you just put it out there.”
I typed it into the Gchat box. If I type it out, it’ll make it easier to just hit send. See how it looks, then send it out there.
“So this might sound totally random, but are you seeing someone?” My hands poised over the keys. Enter. Fingers trembling.
“Haha not that I know of. How bout you?”
I wanted to type “not really,” leave him guessing, make him wonder. Instead I just said, “No. We just never really talk about that stuff so I wondered if you were would you tell me.” It was my honesty bleeding in the little box.
“Yeah, I would. Most likely.”
“Sorry for the weirdness,” I apologized lamely.
“No worries. Not weird.”
Another five minutes of internet silence. And then my screen blinked with another message from him.
“Can’t decide who to start this Sunday, so many great choices for WRs.”
I had my answer, and at the same time, I had no answers at all.