The Deal With the Men, and the Calls


I don’t get it. The men in my life rarely go away. I mean, they communicate badly, we fight, they drop off the radar, we lose touch in all the normal ways—and then BOOM they reappear out of nowhere.

And I’m not talking about long-term exes. I’m talking about shortie exes, and flings, and random people I had drunken, non-sexual encounters.

- That 20-something DJ from Florida with the Mohawk. He crashed in my house one night, and we never hooked up, but we talked on the phone a few times. A year later, he comes to LA and wants to have lunch.
- A pen pal I met on a dating site, who emails me every six months to ask about my writing career, and then tells me he’s coming to Los Angeles, and then completely disappears again.
- This creepy Persian stalker guy who I might sic my Persian girlfriends on if he doesn’t leave my phone the eff alone.


One could opine that this is a GOOD THING, because it means “we’re friends” or “he’s thinking about you,” or whatever.

A cynic would say, “They’re looking to get laid.” But that’s not accurate either, because in many cases, these guys are calling from 1000 miles away.

So I ask, and I ask…what do they WANT? Sometimes, I can figure it out. Sometimes, no way.

My reappearing man log, as of the past week:

Kevin: Texted me last Saturday. Is a notorious slut. Known him for a year. He wants sex—no mystery there. I text him back, “No booty call, thanks, but let’s catch up later.” Done. He’s cool.
Evan: An ex. Very high-strung, slightly insane, and I think he hates women. He texts me out of the blue, to let me know he’s in my neighborhood at 8PM. Then he calls at 10PM. Well, DUH. Another easy one. I don’t answer.
Brady: Just called me a half-hour ago. Haven’t seen him since the opening of Ditch Fridays at the Palms last year. He’s either married or gay or both. I cannot begin to figure out what he wants. I could always listen to his voice mail, but I don’t have the strength.
Beau: SO random. I’ve never met the guy. He insists that he loves to travel, get crazy, and party down. He works in…infrastructure? Occasionally we have lengthy midnight conversations about digital media. He texts me on Tuesday to let me know he’s visiting LA the next day. I get a VM Wednesday evening—what am I doing? I call him back at 9PM. He is either staying in with his friends to play Halo (what is that? Is it a video game?) or possibly going out to a poker game. I tell him I’m not interested in either option. However, we spend the next hour on the phone, in a ferocious debate about FaceBook and various online travel booking engines.
Eric: Ah, this one is difficult. We’ve dated on and off for two years, and we adore each other, but we’re both too damn caught up in our lives. For the last six weeks, we’ve been trying to complete one conversation about when I’m coming to visit him (he just moved to Canada). There is an email in my inbox with potential dates, but I can’t settle upon one. He can’t either. I will probably get a loving drunken phone call from him this weekend, and we won’t discuss the trip.
John: We were dating for a couple months. We split, but we’re both wishy-washy, so we decided to have a follow-up conversation a week later. Only we haven’t been able to synchronize watches for the follow-up conversation …so we’re playing a stupid game of phone tag that’s now lasted for more than two weeks. (Do you think this is ridiculous? I do. I told him it was over, but he thinks I need ‘closure.’)

So, after writing this highly unscientific log, here’s my conclusion:
Humans are mostly just freakin’ lonely and confused. I picture us all like little satellites in an endless orbit, searching for that ONE TRUE FAIRY TALE LOVE that will tractor-beam us down to the Promised Land. But even that’s not a guarantee. Otherwise, all these married people wouldn’t be back in orbit, looking for a connection, a conversation, a laugh…