...is sharing stories like this one:
A few weeks ago I got in the elevator to head to the basement to do laundry. I live on the ninth floor. The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and a guy walked in carrying laundry. He said hi, so I said hi and something like, "Headed to the same place?" From there we started a conversation that didn't stop until he was getting off the elevator. Normally I hate small talk and feel like when I meet a guy for the first time it's usually sort of awkward. There was zero awkwardness and the conversation just flew. I did feel semi-awkward throwing my clothes into the washers in front of him. I mean, I wouldn't ever let anyone do my laundry, let alone some guy I just met see me sorting through my whites, which consist mostly of socks, and colors, which consist mostly of underwear. I made sure to pick washers on the other side of the room.
So we chat chat chat, hop on the elevator, chat chat chat, and then he hops off and we exchange goodbyes and something along the lines of, "Maybe see you in 40 minutes."
Am I interested? Not really. I'll be blunt (hey, my blog's private, I can be ridiculously honest.) He's short. I'm 5'10 1/2" and it wasn't like he was 5'9". I'm guessing 5'8" at best. I've long gotten over the fact that I most likely won't marry someone who's 6'4". In fact, for some reason, every guy I've dated in NY has been my height or a smidgen shorter.
I've tried having this conversation with my girlfriends (who randomly all seem to be short) and, loves....I adore you, but as much as you think you do, you don't get it. I told my friend last night who's 5'4" to imagine going to a party where everyone was under 5'0". She busted up laughing, but, that's how I feel a lot of the time. I'm secure with my height, I really am, and I don't think about it 9 days out of 10. I don't think about it when I'm with my girlfriends, but sometimes I find myself in groups of people, men and women, and everyone is at least 2 or 3 inches shorter than me. I can't help but think, "What the hell? Where are all the tall people??" My short friends get mad when people say they should date the short guys, but.....those people are right. First of all, if short girls aren't willing to date short guys, who are those guys supposed to date? And if they take all the tall guys, who are the tall girls supposed to date? Aaaaaanywaaaaaays, this is clearly something I've discussed several times. (Like with my college roommate who was 5'2" and was embarrassed to say the guy she was dating was kinda short. How short? 5'10". She said she's used to guys being over 6'0". My jaw dropped and I said, "What if I had a rule that I could only date guys who were at least 6'8"???? Do you realize how ridiculous you sound saying you need a guy to be at least eight inches taller than you?" [By the way, they ended up getting married.] I realize it's not exactly the same because there's a lot more guys in the 6'0" height group than the 6'8".)
So, like I said, I've gotten over the fact that I most likely will not marry someone who's a lot taller than me. And, as long as the guy is okay with it, and not a skinny twig, I'm okay with it as well.
So when I went down to throw my clothes in the dryer I noticed he hadn't come down yet. (He and I were the only ones doing laundry and his machine lid was closed.) I threw my clothes in the dryer and went back upstairs. An hour later I went down to get my clothes out. As I was walking in I noticed my clothes were pulled out and sitting in a cart. My initial thought was that someone had pulled them out because they'd needed the dryer. Then I remembered no one else was doing laundry, and there's like six dryers anyway. As I got inside the room I realized my clothes had been pulled out and put into a cart, which was placed directly in front of the dryer this guy was using (which was like, three dryers down from the one I'd been using.)
Now here's the great part, the load consisted of two long sleeved shirts, a tank top, a pair of flannel pj pants, some socks, and underwear. Like, probably 25 pairs of underwear (I have a bad habit of putting off laundry until I absolutely have to do it.)
I mean......it was like, an 85% underwear load.
So, I gathered my belongings and texted Courtnie, as we'd been texted about this guy earlier. Wtf. Should I be flattered? Freaked? Is this his way of hitting on me? Am I supposed to respond somehow? I'm so confused. In her quick wit Court responded that I should take his laundry and leave a note saying, "#91B." (My apartment number.) I laughed.
I racked my brain trying to think of rational explanations. Maybe he was trying to be nice? But honestly though, everyone sort of knows the rule that you don't touch other people's laundry. AND, even if he DID think it was a friendly gesture, wouldn't he stop as soon as he realized he was touching my panties and quickly put it all back?
I know what you're thinking. Was any underwear missing? Thankfully, I think it was all there (at least the favorites.)
Obviously he's trying to say something, but I just don't know how he expects me to respond.
SO...fast forward to yesterday. I was leaving the building and my doorman tells me he has an envelope for me. I had no clue what it was but figured I'd must have ordered something online and had forgotten. I take the envelope and see written in blue ink, "Rachel, 9th floor." And in black ink, "Hope."
I started getting nervous that maybe one of my neighbors was complaining about me or something. Or, I thought, maybe it was a thank you because I'd just barely given the doormen their holiday tip last week.
So I get to the movies and open it up and find this inside:
I don't even know what to do............any suggestions? And I'm trying to forget about the fact that he went to the doorman and was like, "Hey, there's this chick who lives on the 9th floor, her name's Rachel but I don't know her last name, do you? And can you leave this for her?"
And can someone also please explain how I can meet a guy in five seconds, while probably looking bad (I mean, it was laundry night....I was probably in pjs, slippers, and had my hair in a pony) and yet haven't been asked out by a Mormon in over two years? Seriously. This is a problem.
Part of me wants to positively reinforce the good behavior of taking initiative. Part of me wants to come out and ask what was up with the laundry. Part of me figures maybe I'll get a free meal out of it. (Hey, I'm unemployed and a girl's gotta eat.) Most of me wants to ignore the note all together, but I feel like I can't because what if I run into him again?