Only 238-days until Christmas…

Little Miss Westchester has hit a new high in bewildered man-fusion (confusion + men + alcohol = man-fusion) and regrets to inform you that she is indeed, very perplexed.

When it comes to the subject of MEN on this blog, I have (for the most part) avoided talking about my crushes. I attribute this to the fact that (being the shameless self-promoter that I am), I have told many of my crushes about the site; and, if by some wild chance they were to actually visit Super Secret Rantings and see that I was writing about them, well they might have thought that I was a little crazy; and even though WE know that is not the case, I just haven’t been willing to take that chance.

But I want to be honest with my seven loyal readers (Hi Mom!...who am I kidding, my mom doesn’t read this blog.) in hopes that by making this exception and talking about my (at times mismanaged) love life that I will somehow gain some insight into the baffling situation in which I now find myself.

After six months of secretly wondering if there could be something more, I finally took the risk and told a friend of mine how I feel about him and our friendship. It wasn’t easy-and it certainly wasn’t fun, but I was just so fed up with the mixed signals I felt he was sending and our hours-long phone conversations that never lead to anything. So when you couple all that with several hours of drinking, you have yourself the perfect storm for an explosive, alcohol-induced confession.

At this point you are all probably nodding your heads in solidarity; because really, who hasn’t let something slip after a night on the town with booze as your guide and the opposite sex (or, if you prefer the same-sex, cough, Rico Suave) as your partner in crime? But unlike discretion-malfunctions of the past, this specific confession was not uncalculated; because, despite the fact that the man in question has never asked me out or called me for anything other than directions, I believed that there was a good chance he was interested too. Besides, as blogging buddy Bruce Dierback once said, “Sometimes you have to take the chance while you can, when you can, so as to not miss out and wonder ‘what if?’ for the rest of your life.”

So Friday night, I spilled the beans.

At first, his silence and slightly defensive manner led me to the conclusion that he was probably not “digging” the “seeds” I was trying to plant in our otherwise “platonic pot” (God I love metaphors); however, when he called me the following afternoon to reveal that he was indeed a little interested, I invited him out with my friends and once again waited for him to make a move. The night went well, and I felt he was finally making an effort to give it a shot; but at the end of the evening when I said good night and asked him to call me, he kind of seemed mad at me. In fact, the look on his face was nothing less than annoyed.

So here I am, three days later and no less confused than I was on Saturday.

What was he expecting?

Frankly, I have no clue why he was annoyed; but after six months of trying to decipher his mixed messages, should I really keep trying to make sense of it? Maybe I am getting it all wrong and maybe I am just making more of a mess out of things than necessary-but I deserve more than this guessing game.