A new low?

So it's been a while since I last posted. Been busy and in a funk all at the same time. But now that I've got a moment and I'm no longer feeling apathetic, I'll write.

There's a gas station I stop at almost every day that I work for my essential intake of caffeine, nicotine, and gasoline for my truck. There's a guy clerk there who likes to flirt with me. I'll admit I enjoy the attention somewhat, so I often flirt back.

But no more.

See, I'm a "cut to the chase" kind of girl. I don't like pussyfooting around when it comes to matters of the heart. So I decided to end the perpetual moony-eyed nonsense that was going on between me and the clerk and slipped him my number.

I seriously doubt he'll call. That is always my luck. 

And now, my total lack of good fortune in the romance department isn't phasing me. 

Seriously. It's not.

I could honestly not care if he doesn't call. Or if he does. It would be nice if he called, but if not, no big deal. I'm 31 fucking years old and I ain't got time to worry about ambivalent bullshit energy from menfolk.

If he doesn't call, it's his loss. I'm a pretty decent person, and I have lots of friends and family who love and care about me, so I'm good in the social relationships department.  

But it's not just my total lack of any feeling, positive or negative, on this subject that has shocked me. It's my audacious attitude behind the reason I gave Mr. Clerk my number. 

You see, given all of my past experiences with this maneuver, especially since it always results in a big goose egg, I'm basically daring him to call me. 

That's right. I'm so convinced that he's not going to call that it's almost like I said,  "Go ahead! I don't think you've got spleen enough to even attempt to call me! I double dog dare you to call me!" when I handed him that little slip of paper with my name and number on it. 

So, yeah. I think I've struck a new low in my dating life:  Malicious number giving. 

And it doesn't bother me a bit. 

Ball's in your court, clerky boy.