Part Three of an Occasional Series: SIWALTA

February 11, 2005

So, I'm dating these two guys, named B and D. I know. Recipe for disaster, right? The worst thing is, their names on my Caller ID look almost EXACTLY alike—I really have to look closely when either one calls, and now I'm so paranoid about it that I have to look three or four times to check and re-check, and I still forget by the time I pick up the phone. Fortunately, their voices sound different—D's got the typical West Coast quick-quick-slow pattern, whereas B is from Cleveland and is a bit more nasal, almost Pittsburgh-type in sound. But it's hard to tell that from a simple "Hello".

Moving on. B's supposed to call me at 11:30 today, so I step outside for a walk at about this time. While waiting, I call mom. She's on lunch break too, and we both have so much to say to each other that we immediately start to chatter full speed ahead, often talking over each other trying to get the words out in time. We're still in full flow twenty minutes later when someone beeps in. I look at the phone, expecting it to be B, and it's D. Or is it? I double check. Nope, still says D. I interrupt my mom in the middle of a life-changing realization and say I'll call her back. I look at the phone again. Still says D.

Me, purring: "Hi." (I figure I can't go wrong either way with this.)

Then I get the shock of my life: the guy who says "Hello" back sounds incredibly nasal. I'm terrified. My phone said "D"! How can it be B? But it does sound like D, somewhat, but really: he's so nasal! A dozen possibilities flash through my head: have they merged into one person? Have they discovered each other's existence and is one of them calling to fuck with me? What if they traded phones to bring me to my doom? Is my phone fucking with me out of revenge for being dropped in the dog’s water dish?

Fortunately, because I'm dating both these guys, a lot of my conversation is transferable, and nervousness has made me more hyper than usual. I chatter about the gorgeous day and what I'm doing right then, which is walking along the banks of the Duwamish River. Even more confusing, D (if it IS D) is in full business mode, asking me about B----- and so on, which is more of a B thing to do. Finally, my head is spinning like a top in full Exorcist mode when the guy on the other end (whom I've barely been listening to) says, "...blah blah blah Local Tacoma Restaurant blah blah..." and I'm saved. It IS D! Hallelujah! I settle down and begin to pepper my conversation with terms of endearment. After all, I am sleeping with him and calling him my boyfriend—he and I have a different relationship than me and B. D and I are in the middle of exchanging dirty suggestions when my phone beeps again.

You guessed it. It's B, calling half an hour late.

Me: "Oh, hang on sexy, it's my Mom." *beep*
D: "Sure, go ahead."
Me (praying that I have actually switched over lines): "Hiiiiiiiii," purred.
B (very nasal and Cleveland): "Hi! Blah blah blah I hurt my foot on my run this morning and might have to get it operated on!"
Me: "Oh no, hon! Tell me all about it!"
B: "Blah blah blah blah blah remember our date tonight blah blah blah!"
Me (several minutes later when I remember that I'm still on the phone with D): "Oh, hon, I have to go! I got so caught up in talking to you that I forgot I was on the phone with my mom! Can I call you back at 2:30?"
B: "Sure!"
Me (clicking over again, praying equally hard): "Geez, my mom! Talk talk talk!"
D: (laughs) "So, My Friend blah blah blah what are you doing on your night as a free woman blah blah?"

(aka the night I already told D I wouldn't be free because I'm going out with B, but told D I was going out the The Girlz.)

Me (inventing frantically and stalling, but trying to make it sound like I'm just drawing out the revelation): "Weeeeeeelllll...Co-Waitress and I have been in some talks...blah blah blah no actual plans yet blah blah probably come home early anyway blah blah total bullshit blah blah blah!"
D: "Sounds great!"
Me: (silently) Thank you, Goddess of Courtesans.