So………………What do YOU do when a guy doesn’t call?

We’ve all been through this before, right? You meet a guy—you had a great time—you gave him your number—a week or two goes by and—NOTHING.  No calls, no texts, N-A-D-A. You’re shocked—you’re wounded—you’re perplexed.  Well, if you’re anything like me, then you probably casually start replaying the scenario in which you met, over and over in your head…looking for clues about what could possibly have gone wrong.  Then you might mull over some of the things you said or did, that you wish you had said or done just a tad differently (especially if you were drinking!). THEN, once you’ve exhausted all the scenarios of beating yourself up….you run through all sorts of reasons about why he didn’t call due to his own personal issues or malfunctions. You know the drill—he lost your number, he’s a player, he’s young, he was drunk, he’s intimidated, he’s gay, he just got out of a relationship, he’s an idiot, etc., etc., etc. And then FINALLY (but always), you land upon the revelation that it doesn’t even really matter—it wasn’t meant to be—it’s HIS loss for not calling anyway. This, by the way, is all just a hypothetical manner in which someone might handle a silent “rejection”.

None of this strikes a chord so far? Hmmm….then maybe you are more like my friend “Roxy” (name changed to protect her identity). Let me tell you how my dear friend, Roxy, recently handled a situation when a guy that she met didn’t call her. Picture this. Winter, 2011 (February—the month of love to be exact). Hunter Mountain, New York. Roxy goes out with some friends after a not so hard day on the slopes. It’s the end of the night. Roxy’s on the dance floor swinging her hips and having a great time. All of a sudden, like a rockstar’s dream, Roxy is surrounded by a group of drunk, young men in Elvis costumes. You heard me—ELVIS. 

 

Roxy and one of the Kings of Rock ‘n’ Roll start dancing. She typically hates Rock ‘n’ Roll but it’s OK because she immediately feels a SERIOUS connection. Now, I know Roxy, and in this situation, she would normally grab a bull by the horns and go home with him—or at least take his number so that she’s in control of next steps. However, much to her friends suggestions, she has recently been re-evaluating her approach and was on a mission to try a different one—starting with this fella. It’s not easy, but Roxy lets the guy make the first move…and despite his repeated requests, she refuses to go back to his lodge with his gaggle of King impersonators. Who knows, maybe Roxy will even try to impersonate a little herself and play a little hard to get with this one, after all, there was a connection! Alas, Elvis asks for her number but as it turns out his jumpsuit has no pockets—therefore, he has no phone. Roxy stuffs her number in Elvis’ jumpsuit while thinking, hmm—this doesn’t seem very full proof, I hope he doesn’t lose it.  Elvis softly serenades “Love Me Tender,” they lock lips and say good night.

A few days go by back in NYC and nothing. No calls, no texts, no entries on missed connections—N-A-D-A. Roxy thinks to herself, I just knew he would lose that number in his pocket-less jumpsuit! She calmly starts piecing together all of the details she learned from their brief encounter. He likes to ski and dresses up as Elvis. Those aren’t very common attributes. He said he lived in the East Village (on first ave and first street to be exact). Well, there’s a lead. She knows his first name is Bill—another clue! So Roxy did what any of you might do????? She searched endlessly on Google, Facebook, plenty of fish, Elvis impersonator sites….it just wasn’t enough information for Roxy to zone in on her new man. So she researches bars in his neighborhood and narrows it down to the one place she is convinced her Elvis would be most likely to frequent. She goes to the East Village after work, innocently strolls around his block. No sign of him. She heads to what she thinks is “his” local bar, sits down and waits. Nothing—No Elvis, no Bill—no blue suede shoes. 

So what dear readers did this bodacious Roxy do next? Well, you’ll never guess…so let me just tell you! She put aside her brand new “let the guy make the first move” approach—and took matters into her own hands. The next day at work, she put a few words down on paper….made some copies….grabbed a roll of tape……..and took a stroll down to  first ave and first street. This Queen wasn’t going to let this potential King go. Roxy posted her new homemade flyers (see below for the ACTUAL flyer that was posted—only her name was changed!) ALL over the East Village!!!!!!!  Telephone poles, street signs, mailboxes—if Elvis was “in the building”, he was NOT gonna miss this one! Feeling charged and liberated, Roxy went back to “his” neighborhood bar sat back patiently and waited for him to either walk in or flood her inbox—after all, he would be so relieved she found him.

Well folks, I wish I could say this story had a happy, fairytale ending, you know, the kind to tell your grandchildren…but I can’t. The only email Roxy received from her flyer was from a random guy saying “he’s an idiot, you’re cute, call me” but sigh—nothing from Elvis. Who can say if“Bill aka Elvis” did or didn’t see the flyers or how he would have reacted if he did. How would you react??? So while I can’t say I agree with or approve of what my friend did, I will say—she’s a hopeless romantic who has a lot of heart and some gigantic balls! And alas, we can just add this story to the files of crazy shit my friends tell me.

I think it’s most appropriate to end this one with a quote from the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll himself:

“ ‘Til we meet again, may God bless you. Adios.”
-Said in 1977 at the end of a concert during his last tour