He finally called–the hot guy Linx had initially set me up with. He called past the timeframe he was supposed to call within. We exchanged voicemails a few times before we actually connected on the phone.
“Wow,” I said with surprise when he picked up. “I was expecting to leave another voicemail.”
“Should I hang up so you can leave a voicemail?”
“Well, since I have you on the phone, I guess I can at least say hello.”
The line started clicking. “Oh, someone’s trying to reach me. Let me ignore that call. Hold on one second.”
When he returned I laughed, “Well aren’t you Mr. Popular?”
“That’s right, baby. Get in line.”
He was certainly the charmer. I was smiling on the other end.
He asked me to tell him about my day, why I had a 773 cell phone number, where I was from, where I lived. Then he did much of the same. “I was born in the Philippines. In Manila. My parents are Greek. My dad was an engineer so he worked in the Philippines. I was born, then my parents got divorced. And my dad ending up marrying a Filipino woman–who’s practically more my mom than my birth mom–but don’t tell my real mom that! I go back a lot, at least every other year. I love the Philippines. Anyhow, I’m here in the city, curating art shows mainly in San Francisco but all throughout the country, too.”
I was smitten. I’d been setup with someone who was probably more Filipino than I was. He definitely was. Filipinos are known for being late and carefree. He always called a day or so after he said he would. Then when it came to scheduling our first date, he said he’d call in one week after I was done with earnings and he was done with his next show.
He never called.