Taking A Chance On Chance.

I called the boy. I have to admit that it was Charity who truly convinced me that I had to at least try for Chance—to make the effort. We had gone to dinner and were in the process of working ourselves through some lemon drops when I—in a bit of carb free tipsiness—asked if she was happy.

See Charity is my oldest of Los Angeles friends—even older than my parents—and the first person that made me feel like I belonged in this city. She is single and wonderful and funny and quite a bit like Mrs. Madrigal in her own way. She is probably the person I would most want to grow up to be like—no questions or mistakes—she just is, was, and will continue to be the same as always. A very genuine person.

The funniest thing about my question is how nonplussed she was by it—just a simple yes. As she prodded me on the whys of my questions—I let it spill out what happened with Chance after the wrap party, how confused I was and scared and at the place where IO had to something but I didn’t know what and since I didn’t that maybe I shouldn’t call him and that I should just let it while but that I do really like him in a way I have never liked a boy before so if I couldn’t pull it together for him then maybe I should just give it up.

After telling me to pull my head out of my ass and stop with all the navel gazing—which she blames on ‘My So-Called Life’, ‘Felicity’, and ‘Dawson’s Creek’—Charity asked what I was Chance would do if I called? I didn’t have an answer because I knew that nothing bad would happen which Charity pointed out was an answer within it’s self. She then forced another drink in me and dropped me home after extracting a promise from me to call the boy.

In my tipsy state I did call, got his voicemail, and my courage. The happy sounds of his ridiculous outgoing message complete with monkey sounds (I know how that sounds) and I just found my voice. I left a very direct straight-forward message about how I was doing what he asked and now he had to call me if he was serious about all this and that if it is just a thing that is fine but that he had to at least tell me. (This message was stated much simpler and silly than this brief recap.) And then I hung up and just sat on my stairs and stared at the phone. It’s hard to be the one putting himself on the line. I hate it.

But the boy did call. And he was so happy and so funny and so eager in his message. I’m not sure what this means yet. But at least I took a chance and now have a chance to find out.