Having spent the first part of my week frustrated at unreturned phone calls, I had discarded any notions of The Realtor and, out of spite, had even decided against attending the party that he was throwing for the development. He had screened-without-callbacks a few times and even though he has sent some pretty strong signals when his parents were in town (had called with them in the car because I was just telling them how much we’re meant to be, and I couldn’t remember your grad program name, ha ha), the inconsistency was frustrating and I had declared myself officially done. Besides, my experience with boys has taught me that the only way to initiate attention is to back the-fuck away and see what happens.

His party, I learned from The Sister, was actually a good time, annoying me all the more, so I hurried through my grad-school readings to make a last-minute appearance.

When I entered the Oktoberfest-themed tents, I found The Sister. The Realtor then found me. “I swear I didn’t rig it, and you’re not going to believe this,” he said, “but you won the drawing for the $100 gift certificate to [upscale steakhouse]. I swear I didn’t rig it – if I had, I would have given it to someone else.” He then smiled. Those were his only words to me during the event, leaving to schmooze (ok, that is part of his job) and socialize with German-beer-drinking clients who were trying to set him up with their granddaughters.

After the event, while I was drinking with The Bestest Friend at my house (which by the way, I still LOVE – furniture was delivered this morning, I now have a place to sit!), he texted that he had to leave (the Red Sox were playing in the playoffs, as I knew from conversations with The Kid), but he wanted to tell me that I “looked very pretty tonight.” A few exchanges later, which basically amounted to my textual version of an eye-roll, he confessed that he rigged the drawing after all and does that mean I was going to take him out on a date?

“I would but you would screen the invite. Giving it to The Sister instead.”

“Ok, well, I am going to spring a night on you soon. I have a gift certificate too and we will go and eat and drink. And did I tell you that you looked pretty tonight?”

I spent the whole next day exasperated. What the hell, boys. BE CONSISTENT.

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