Signs?

I'll never understand women. And after three decades, I realize it's an unrealistic goal. Even guys who are married don't know it all. So I'll always doubt signals, and my gut will tell me two different things.

Tonight was our annual Christmas party at my company, a lavish catered affair with a live band and tons of great ethnically diverse food. Some years have been better than others. One year I went and knew very little people, and spent most of the time walking from room to room, constantly in motion, staying long enough to make a good showing, but the night dragged. Another year, I was planning to skip it but was talked into it by some lovely, albeit platonic and spoken for, female friends. That was more fun, although I got drunk and danced like a bad Chandler/Elaine hybrid. Subsequently, the ladies dropped me off at my car and the driver forgot she had her SUV in reverse. As I walked around the back I noticed in my own alcoholic haze that the car seemed to be getting closer. Then it struck me and spun me to the ground. As I staggered to my feet I heard a window roll down and someone say, “Omigodwhathappened?? Are you OK?” Come to think of it, I believe that was the FIRST party I went to at this company, because it was the same year as my surgery so she felt extra-bad. She got really sensitive about me teasing her for it though, so I eventually stopped.

After nearly five years, I know a lot more people, and though a lot of my closer friends weren't going this year, there would still be people I knew. I had planned to only go to make an appearance, especially since I was nervous about getting those dizzy spells while driving. Though a short ride from my job to the restaurant, they came over me. I've been getting better at ignoring or going with them, and riding them out, and I made it there. But walking in the nervousness and dizziness were overwhelming, and I was certain I would fall over. I got a sprite, and planned to finish it and leave when my friend Joe called me over to a table where he and several others were sitting. As the night went on we had a lot of laughs and good food, and enjoyed the endless parade of beautiful women passing by in their elegant clothing. A funny thing happened. The more I laughed and relaxed and had fun, the better I felt. My life isn't all work. I hang out with my friends at lunch. I socialize, probably to excess at the expense of productivity, during the day. And I have a lot of friends I play in bands with. But maybe that isn't the same as going out and having a good time. I was trying to remember the last time I just went to a movie, or hung out with a group of friends on a weekend instead of septuagenarian musicians. It has been a while. I wouldn't think that would affect one's health. My parents never had the problems I've had these past few months, and they've ALWAYS been hard workers. They had a few close friends they mainly talked to on the phone a few times a year, and their first real vacation was shortly after their 30th wedding anniversary. Since I was old enough to take care of myself and their cats, they flew down to Florida and met some friends. I was taught that when you grow up and get married, you have responsibilities, and fun is a luxury reserved for the young. So I'm skeptical that I have stress because I don't go out enough(ok, ever). Still, it's an interesting theory.

At one point in the evening when another coworker, Dennis, showed us pictures on his digital camera of girls he liked at the party, Joe went in to a rant about how he doesn't understand single guys, how when he was single he never left a party with less than five phone numbers. He asked Dennis, “Why aren't you talking to them instead of taking their pictures, and then comin' over and showin' three guys?? Get ovah there!” As Dennis headed back out into the field, I began to realize I was the only single guy left at the table and was doing even less than Dennis to change that. At this point a girl I work with suddenly pulled up a chair and began talking about work. She told me how awesome my catalogs are, and how awesome the work I do is, and how she always wants to tell me that in meetings but doesn't want to look like a “goof ball” in front of the rest of our team. I politely thanked her, at which point she got oddly defensive and told me she was being serious and detected sarcasm. I assured her I was sincere, and that my tone of voice always sounds sarcastic. On one level, as she went on to ask where I lived and how I was enjoying the party, I began to wonder if she was interested in me. A friend in college once told me a lot of physical contact is one way to read whether a woman is being more than just friendly, and she was touching my shoulder and knee quite a bit. On quite another, I was fairly certain she may simply have had too much to drink. When she finally told me she was “loving the open bar!”, planted a kiss on my cheek, and left, I was sure of it.

At this point I turned and the other two guys were staring with jaws agape. Joe, more of a true stereotypical New York Italian than I asked me, “WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU??” and they both proceeded to point out that they thought she was hitting on me. I pointed out the alcohol factor, knowing my luck and history better than them, and I didn't share their assurance that the best time to talk to a girl was after she's had a few too many. There have been the occasional signs when she's been sober though. She once told me she loved to sing along with The Transformers when she was younger, and there have been times I've gotten strange phone calls with barely work-related questions like what our fax number is(she works at a different location). I say “barely work-related” because she could have looked it up, and wasn't actually faxing me anything. She once asked if she could be a model in one of my catalogs.

So, the more I thought about the signs that my friends were telling me were blatant, the less crazy their theory sounded. When one of their other friends, a gay dude whom a lot of pretty girls confide in came by and they told him the story, he shared their opinion and suggested I see if she was going to the after-party and gave me the details of it. So, I set out in search of her, to at least talk and get a second reading. I wasn't positive I'd be in to her even if she was in to me. She's pretty but we work on the same team, and if I was wrong I was potentially walking into work-jeopardizing territory. She lives in the city which is pretty far from where I live. And I'm still gauging her intelligence--I remember one meeting where she questioned an editor's use of the word “inimitable” and said she never heard it and would have though “unimitatable” would be the word to use. Some guys are superficial and value only beauty, but I know from my parents and married friends that common ground is more important and I should look for someone I can converse with long after looks have faded and physical relations have subsided. It's important to plan ahead.

I spotted her walking across the dance floor, and cut through another room to head her off, just in time to see her sidle up to some big guy and throw her arm around his neck. It wasn't exactly damning evidence that she was drunkenly making her rounds with all her guy friends at the party, but after I went back to my table and told the guys, we saw her head over to another table, kneel between two guys, and then walk off to the bar with one of them. My friends were sorry they were wrong and said they were so sure she was into me, but I pointed out how much more familiar I am with the way things go. At this point, we all decided to leave and after bidding them a good night and a safe journey home, I walked off to my car in the freezing rain.

I'll never understand women. And after three decades, I realize it's an unrealistic goal. Even guys who are married don't know it all. So I'll always doubt signals, and my gut will tell me two different things. On one level I might fully suspect a girl is being more than just nice to me, but on another, I'll worry about the consequences of being wrong and misreading her intentions. Throw alcohol in the mix, and it's nigh impossible to get a true reading of the signs.

Overall though I had a fun time, and my drive home went very well, mostly because I was too busy analyzing the events of the evening and composing mentally what would likely be another excessively long blog entry. Best of all, I took tomorrow off so I can relax and enjoy myself.