Confusion Reigns

For three days I had no idea what the hell was going on. But it's all clear now.

On Monday, my friend - and ex - A had called me to invite me to her newborn's circumcision. And to tell me that she's spoken to the girl we'd talked about; she'd be interested in going out with me; and would I like her number?

I was stunned. I'd fancied S for at least a month. Her sparkling green eyes, jagged scar running down her face from a near-fatal car-accident, and casual indifference to my presence were all unnervingly appealing. And she wanted to go out with me?

A gave me her number. I called the next night and left a message on her voicemail.

Wednesday night was Yom Tov - a Jewish holiday. It had gone 8pm when my phone rang, the vibrations on my on-Silent phone arousing me from my armchair and beckoning me to see who it was - even though, it being a festival, I couldn't actually pick it up. Much to my surprise, it was S - someone I'd only ever met in synagogue, and who I therefore assumed would be similarly averse to using electronics on a holy day.

The next night was Simchat Torah - Rejoicing of the Law. And a time-honoured excuse to have a piss-up in synagogue.

P - a sweet German who'd taken a shine to me - was there. As was S. I spoke to the latter for at most two minutes; I came close to asking if she'd received my message. I didn't.

Later that night, I walked P home; went up to her flat; smooched her and found that she'd had her already ample bosom reduced from its original might.

Next day, I attended a different synagogue. S was there again. We spoke some more; I even made her laugh. Again, I came tantalisingly close to asking her if she'd received my message - just as all my friends had advised. But I didn't.

Just as well. When the Sabbath finally ended on Saturday night, I listened to my voicemail. There was a message from a health insurer, my cousin and an estate agent, as well as one from J returning my call, but finding it weird that I'd called her "S". So as I'd suspected, S hadn't called on a festival. But who the hell is J?

I called. She answered. Said my friend had told her to expect a call.

"Ah," I said. "Thing is. I don't know who you are?...I thought you were someone else, and that's why I called you S..."

But fate can work in funny ways, I said. J suggested we meet for a drink all the same.

I called A to see what she was playing at. Apparently at lunch the previous week we'd spoken about two girls. When she called me on the Monday, though, and I'd asked her if she was sure we were talking about the same girl, she said yes. Turns out she wasn't.

But hey, being set up with the "right" girl has never worked in the past. So maybe things will work out better with the wrong one!