I have been informed by a common acquaintance that the anaerobic physicist is once again single.
The state of emotional upheaval into which this has sent me has rendered me unable to recite the alphabet, much less think rationally, but I have come up with a plan, which I have already begun to implement.
I e-mailed him asking if I could pick his brain about becoming an aerobics instructor. He will either answer this e-mail, in which case I will set up a time to take him out to lunch, or fail to answer this e-mail, in which case I will drink poison. If he does answer the e-mail and I take him out to lunch, I will at some point lead the conversation around to his recent trip to Italy and ask him if his boyfriend was there with him. If he says no but makes no mention of no longer having a boyfriend, I will drink poison, because this will mean that he doesn’t consider the information that he’s single important for me to have. If he reveals that they’ve broken up, I will ask him if he’s still in mourning (giving him an easy out) or if I can ask him out. If he says he’s still in mourning, I will drink poison, because, come on, he’s a fag in New York, plus they weren’t together that long, there’s no way he’d wait more than three seconds before jumping back in the dating pool, so clearly he’s taking the out I’m offering him. If he says I can ask him out, then I will explode with joy.
Hmm. Drink poison, drink poison, drink poison, explode with joy. Somehow none of these seems likely to lead to my eventual happiness.
But taken together they’d make a damn fine replacement for “Duck, Duck, Goose.”
I think I’ll go check my e-mail.