Monday, April 11, 2011
Is it so hard to press reply?!
I rolled in to work feeling like death on the Friday. About 1o’clock I sent the email to Scott. Now… it’s not that I expected him to reply straight away, I mean he does own his own business. (Yes indeed I did Google him.) That’s what you get for giving people your card! It’s all quite impressive; he’s MD to his own PR and marketing consultancy, currently writing a book and apparently founded some sort of awards thingy. So all in all he has a lot on his plate. Nevertheless I still expect some form of acknowledgment but its early days. I tend to give these things at least 24 hours before I lose all hope.
Having spent the entire tube journey into work rocking back and forth like a recovering drug addict, wondering if I was actually going to projectile vomit or not, I endured the rest of the day attempting to nurse my hangover whilst working. (Not a good look) The worst thing was that I had a work outing to attend and the though of even stepping into another bar sent me running into the ladies loo, gagging reflexes on full throttle. But the hair of the dog and all that jazz!
Having stayed later than I originally intended and therefore drunk more than my body would have liked, I headed into central with three work colleagues to meet friends. Where did we end up? Yup, you guessed it!
So there I am, second night on the trot in Zebranos, heading straight to the bar (naturally) and who do I see... Well to be fair it’s a bit hard to not see Scott. I’ve come to the conclusion that he must be part giant due to the fact that he is just so ridiculously tall! For some reason I panic and crouch, thinking that if I’m low enough he’ll be unable to see me. As ludicrous as it sounds, it all made sense at the time. Next thing I know, I feel a tap on the shoulder. I freeze, mid crouch, turn around and see his knee caps (he really is that tall). I stand up and smile, hoping he doesn’t ask why I was walking through the crowd trying to imitate a cat burglar. He takes me over to the corner and starts making idle chit chat. Er HELLO. I’m too impatient for this kind of nonsense, so I interrupt him mid flow. ‘I sent you an email’ I blurt a bit louder than I intended... Pause.
Long story short, he saw the email but had been too busy to reply. Ok fine, I can deal with that. Though just because that’s what he said it doesn’t mean I don’t still expect a reply. He also says he’s going to another bar and wants me to come with him. (Surely that’s a good sign?) So I tell him that I’m waiting for my friend and depending on how things go we may come. (That was me trying to act cool) Again with the forehead kiss and he leaves. As soon as I saw Louise I practically rugby tackled her to the ground to update her on what Scott said. Next thing I know Patrick (bar man) appears and reveals that he saw the email I wrote Scott. Erm ok. So he had time to show Patrick the email but didn’t have time to send me any form of a response. Right...
Irrespective, we head to the second bar. This is my last glimmer of hope in regards to some progression in this scenario. He sees us, calls us over, one last forehead kiss and then he disappears. Louise and I spend the whole night with his friends who then start asking me where he is! Finally, one of his friends said he already left. No goodbye. No email reply. Nada…
On reflection I have to wonder why. Why did he say he’d take me out on a date? Why did he give me his card? Why did he come and speak to me when he saw me? Especially as it was obvious I was trying to avoid him. Why ask me to come to the other bar if he was just going to leave? Why did he not reply to the email? It’s this kind of Baloney from men that I cannot stand. If you don’t mean it don’t say it. Simplez! I guess we’ll never know. Unless I see him again and then trust me it’s on like donkey kong because I’m sick of not knowing. Is it so hard to press reply? Apparently for some people it is!
On a brighter note, I did have the most interesting conversation with Mr Scottish…