Shake for me girl...I wanna be your backdoor man...

I am no good at being demure or even remotely coquettish.

Last night, Dan went with his friend Jon to an L.A. Kings hockey game and I was left home alone...it wasn't too bad....I sat around the apartment, getting up here and there to periodically clean some stuff up. I made both our beds, let the heating warm up the rooms, straightened up the coffee table, washed the dishes and cleared out the trash. I even had some time to tidy up my iTunes tags.

I got bored pretty quickly of watching the Jersey Shore marathon so I took a long, hot shower. The whole time I kept thinking, "Now would be a good time to call Edgar, huh?" "There's no one here to hear you talking to him...no one to listen in or eavesdrop...do it."

NOOOOO NOOOOO NO! NO! NO! Be strong!

I caved around 9 pm after the sound of thunder and lightning had subsided. My face twitched. I put Jersey Shore on mute and dialed. I held my breath as the other line rang. My stomach quivered. Blood seemed to rush to my face. It rang once. Twice. Three times.

He picks up at the fourth ring, "Hey what's up?"

I inhale sharply, "Hiii...it's me." Did I just squeak that?

We make some nice chat, always pleasant and flirty. He tells me about the near tornado touching down at his work place...fortunately he was home at the time, he had taken the day off to turn in some law school apps and paperwork. He asks about my Facebook status proclaiming I'm home alone and wonders where Dan is. I didn't think he ever read any of the shit I post.

About 40 minutes or so into the conversation I hear his phone cutting in and out...I think he's on his last bit of battery charge...he warns me that he may suddenly be cut off and just as I try to ask if he will be coming over Saturday night, he's gone.

I sit and look at the phone, frustrated. "Call ended."

I dial him back. Twice. Both times it goes straight to voicemail: "Hi, you've reached the cell phone of Edgar Cruz, please leave me a message...."

I hang up, annoyed.

I text him instead, desperate to just finish the conversation and ask if he will be spending the night this weekend:

me: Damn your phone! I didn't even get to ask you if I'd be seeing you on Saturday night. Oh well!

No answer from him yet and it's now Friday afternoon. I don't want to seem desperate but it's much too late now. I remember in the haze of my memory he had expressed fondness for that Lionel Hutz character on the Simpsons. He always liked this bit about "a world without lawyers." I find it on YouTube this morning and post it on his Facebook with the caption "Found it...."



So he's definitely on track to at least try to get into law school. He says he's going to try for UCLA, USC, Whittier and I forget where else. The first three are all in southern California which would be great! The one that escapes my memory is either in New York or Chicago, which would suck. At least if I had him in SoCal, I could keep seeing him...intermittently of course...(sigh)

I deserve better than that. I must be crazy.

Part of me wants to just stop trying to seduce him. I need to stop trying to lure him back to my place for sex. I'm setting myself up for failure.