-{ redgeek.net }-

Several months ago I ran into a girl I went out with a couple of times before – we’ll call her “Tiger” – but at some point she stopped returning my calls. No big deal, we weren’t serious or anything, and I’m certainly not going to give anyone shit for performing a casual blow-off. Sometimes you just don’t connect. C’est la vie.

Well, a few weeks ago we ran into each other at a local art walk and chatted a bit. The next morning I received at text message, something along the lines of “I’d like it if our next meeting wasn’t so happenstance. ;)” In my mind, I’m thinking, what an interesting turn of events, I wonder why she’s chasing me now, while it just trailed off before…. As much as I’d like to think it’s due to my sparkling personality, my (smaller) gut tells me it’s more along the lines of having lost 25 pounds since we last met. Well, she’s cute, and we had a fun couple of dates, so what the hell? Lets’ try again, and see what happens. We set up a time to meet at another exhibition.

Friday night before the show, she calls to confirm the date. We’re just gabbing along when she mentions she lives near Hillcrest. Casually, I ask, “Oh, when did you move out of Ocean Beach?” Response: “I’ve never lived there.”

Right now you may be thinking I’m a jerk that doesn’t listen to anything a girl says. The thought crossed my mind as well – I was convinced she lived in Ocean Beach. In fact, I vividly remembered one of our dates, where we met up in Ocean Beach, had sushi as Obi’s, walked down the street to a bar where we had a few beers and shot pool. And another where we met at that same bar, after which we walked back to her place, where I spent the night.

In the background, she was extolling the virtues of a walk-able neighborhood – which I completely appreciate as well – but my mind was racing through the possibilities. Do I have the wrong girl, am I totally confused as to who I’m talking to? Is she a bit crazy? Was she just house-sitting, yet failed to disclose (I’d think it’d be something that I’d remember) that we’d be sleeping in some person’s bed I didn’t know?

Eventually, we conclude the conversation with a confirmation for tomorrow, and I’m particularly curious as to what the night will bring. I do make note to her, however, that I may need to bail to go to a friend’s last-minute birthday party (which is true.)

Cut to the next evening: we meet up at the exhibition, but everyone’s milling about outside since it’s so hot inside. I see her, and I’m sure it’s the girl I was thought it was. I rule out the first possibility, leaving only psychosis and some bizarre house-sitting incident in the running.

Tiger, myself, and several of the artists – mutual acquaintances – are gathered about chatting, Tiger to my right. (One of the artist’s sisters bring up a love of New Model Army – rock on, Slade the Leveler!) At some point one of the artists brings up the topic of food, her stomach, and the pairing of the two. I seize my opening:

“Yeah, I’m kinda’ hungry too,” rubbing my belly, “you know what I feel like? Sushi.” Looking over at Tiger, “Where was that place we had sushi?”

“Oh, that was Obi’s.” She proceeds to promptly change the subject, but I persist:

“Wait, where did shoot pool down there? That was a cool place.”

“Oh, that was Tony’s.” Again, promptly changing the subject. I’m so close, though, I can’t let it go. I swerve back:

“Oh yeah, yeah, Tony’s was pretty cool,” feigning nostalgia, “and where’d we stay that night?”

She looks directly at me, acknowledging my question, before turning back to the group, and yet again, shifting away the subject of conversation.

It was around this time I received my third text message.

“Um, yeah, I gotta go. Third text message and all.”

Even though I’m pretty sure there’s some benign explanation, I certainly ain’t gonna volunteer to poke no tiger with no sharp stick.