yo-yo

If I had any illusions that going to Albertine’s party would be good for me peace of mind, they are now dispelled. The party was fantastic. I felt that I received special attention from her. We had inside jokes and she would tell stories about me to her friends, like a proud girlfriend should I guess that was the tough part. I looked good. I was funny. I was intelligent. We had rapport. I felt like she wanted me (but I’ve felt this before). Then, at the end of the night, while the other lat guest was in the bathroom, I said,
“So. . .I’ll see you . . .sometime.”
She said, “Absolutely,” with the kind of surety that made me feel like she wanted to, like she wanted to be with me, like her ex-boyfriend was beginning to decrease, and I was experiencing a corresponding increase.
I rode home with that “absolutely” in my mind. I couldn’t sleep on Saturday night because of that word. Instead I went back through the night, replaying jokes, looks, glances, the movement of people through the room, her tendency to remain close to me. I tried not to make any conjecture. I tried not to embellish.
Since then I’ve been waiting, a little anxiously, for something from her, a small sign that I would see her again soon. It’s only been thirty-six hours. I have no patience. Today is her real birthday, so I sent her a short email. No plans, no questions, just “Happy actual birthday. Celebrate with some dark chocolate.” I am terrified of coming on too strong. At the same time, I need an answer, a reply. Until then, I am incapacitated.