Thirty-four

I met Thirty-four when I was in Nashville.  He was with a group of guys that I declared as my new friends, and I found out he lives in SF, too.  I told him that it was obviously kismet that we met and that we should exchange numbers.  He asked if I had any friends in the Marina (which is a SF neighborhood with the stereotype of inhabitants being obnoxious fraternity and sorority people along with snobbish rich people), I said no but that I’m always looking for new friends no matter where they live.  After a minute of hesitation he gave me his number, and I told him it was his best decision of the weekend.  As fate would have it the next day he and his friends ended up at the same place I was having lunch, so I told him all the signs were in our favor.

A few days after I returned to SF, I called Thirty-four and left him a voicemail: “Hey there, it’s Penelope from Nashville.  I wanted to know if you were available this week to do something.  Maybe we could get some ice cream or pizza or watch a baseball game…unless you hate dairy products and baseball in which case we can do something else.  Okay, call me and let me know.”  Amazingly, I didn't hear back.  However, I'm a realist and know that some people never check their voicemails, so the following week I sent him a text inviting him out.  Still nothing, but I gave it one more shot and a couple weeks later texted him with another invitation.  Unresponsive.  I mentioned it to one of his buddies on Facebook who responded, "He's a tough nut to crack, but stick with it."  Rather than take the advice of the friend, I'm calling it quits because I'm not in the mood for a restraining order.