Unrequited Imaginary Love

Franklin is a young man in my writer's group. He is about 10 years younger than me. That should be the end of the story. But, and this is all my fault, I was overly nice to him a couple of meetings ago. Now he thinks I like him. His whole attitude towards me has changed. He now gives me stiff side hugs, calls me ma'am, and avoids me during the after-meeting refreshments. Feel free to roll your eyes. 

At first, I thought that this was funny, seeing that I am not interested in him.  I thought that everyone in the group knew that I have a huge, embarrassing crush on Ryan, the silver fox that cuts his convos with me short after group to get to the last of the Oreos before Pregnant Patty gets herself out of her seat to ambush the cookies. Now I am a little offended. 

This is not the first time that a guy has thought that I had a crush on him and decided to send me signals that he was not interested as to not hurt my feelings. These signals include but are not limited to: only talking to me in a group, switching from hugs to handshakes, repeatedly letting me know that he has a girlfriend, or even ignoring me altogether. Many times I was not interested in these guys. And it has always been amazing, and hurtful, to see the lengths that these guys would go to let it be known that they are not interested just in case. 

Okay, so I am fat, unemployed, and living with my aunt with a credit score that is in the toilet. I am also hilarious and have a great head of hair! Does that count for nothing these days?

A part of me doesn't want to go back to writer's group, wanting to avoid the scene that is inevitably going to come from this. Another part of me wants to kick Franklin in his balls and tell him to get over himself. I will let you know which way I decide to go. 

Disconnected

The other night I talked on the phone with this guy that I met on the bus. I have mentioned him before, the man that showed me the inappropriate Instagram posts? Don't ask how he ended up with my phone number when I decided months ago that he was probably a dead end. Chuck it up to my low self-esteem.
We talked for over an hour and it was a near perfect conversation with a lot of laughing. But we got disconnected. I called him back twice, no answer. I forked it up to all the things girls fork things like that up to: bad service, phone death, etc. I mean, our conversation was AWESOME! We covered everything from hobbies to flogging.
So, I called him the other day, just to say hi, and your girl Holls got forwarded to voicemail.
Whomp, whomp.
I could play the what happened game, and I have. Maybe he was at work, on the train, getting attacked by a dog.
Please.
This is your classic case of Hollyism: thinking something could work later that looked like it wouldn't in the beginning.