I woke up shortly after midnight Friday night and the house was hot and completely dark. It took me a few minutes to realize that the electricity was out. I slipped out of bed and stumbled to the living room, put on a denim skirt with my night shirt and grabbed the cellphone. Once on the front porch I sat down and dialed AmerenUE. I am firm believer that it is better that 100 people call than for all 100 to assume that someone else has called about a neighborhood power outage. From my porch, I could tell that they had electricity on the block to the east but no power for a block or two to the west.

AmerenUE confirmed that they were aware of the power outage that affected 8000 customers (wow!) and that the power would be on by 3 AM. Well, such a short outage would mean that I wouldn't have to worry about throwing away the few contents in the fridge. I noticed that all of the traffic on the street was making a u-turn or turning down one of the side streets. I immediately worried about a car accident or fire that may be further down the street, which just so happens to be where the guy I am crushing on lives. I walked to the middle of the street (oh so smart, but I was half awake) and noticed that the police had put up flares to prevent folks from proceeding past the light at the end of the street. Well, no house was on fire at least. I went back to my post on the front porch, enjoying the cooler outside air than the still air of the house without working ceiling fans.

I was thirsty, but wondered if it was a good idea for my klutzy-self to wander through the dark house to the kitchen to get a drink. I might fall and break my leg. I might drop the glass I am groping in the dark to find then cut myself on the shards of glass. I needed gas, too. So, what better than a trip to the QT to get a soda and fill up with gas without the crowds? I jump in the truck and am on my way. I get to the QT and realize my purse is in the house. Why? Why?! I usually always keep my purse in the car. Arrgh. I drive back home and go via a route that will take me close to the major car accident that has taken out the utility pole causing the neighborhood blackout. While turning the corner onto my street, I notice my crush is standing in his driveway. Now, here is a guy who has his finger on the pulse of this block. He will always come out to help a car accident, flat tire, or whatever even if his only help is calling the correct police department on behalf of the folks in the car accident. I thought he would know what happened.

Against what should be better judgment, I pulled into the driveway. He gives me a half-wave and I notice he is on the phone. My windows were already down so as he puts down the phone a bit I ask if he knows what happened. He sarcastically replies "A car accident."

"Really," I replied dryly. "Thanks for the clarification." I put the truck and reverse and pulled away.

WTF?!

What a fucking jackass! I'm already not happy with myself over forgetting my purse and then this. I was crushed by my crush like some bug! I never expected such a flippant remark. I thought maybe he was mad because my headlights were in his face, but he could have moved up to the car door. I thought maybe it was because he was on the phone at the time, but he seemed to move the phone down.

Once back at the QT and having pumped my gas, I went inside the restrooms to splash water on my face. I looked in the mirror and thought "God you look like hell!" and remembered I did just stumble out of bed. I bought my soda and headed back home. I stayed in the truck listening to the radio, assuming it was much cooler outside. I checked my cellphone and noticed the missed call message. My crush had called. I listened to his voicemail. He stated he didn't realize it was me until I pulled off and that I was the 20th person to stop and ask the same question. He apologized if he had offended me.

I turned off the talk radio and thought about it for a moment. On one hand, there were the things I mentioned above about being on the phone and headlights in his eyes. I did look like complete hell and had on my glasses--so maybe it was good he didn't recognize me. And, I was driving the truck my father and I share, so he wouldn't have recognized that. So, I can fully believe that he didn't know this was me.

On the other hand, it was quite a blow. It took a lot of nerve for me to pull into his driveway in the first place. To be treated like such crap sent me reeling. If there is anything that I expect from men--whether friend, coworker or lover--it is respect. However, I was not about to judge the apology as insincere.

I called him back and got his voicemail. Does this guy ever answer his phone? I don't think I have ever gotten straight through to him. This isn't necessarily a complaint. He has a very sexy voice, so listening to his voicemail message is a pleasure! I digress. I left a message accepting his apology and making some joke about "random acts of rudeness."

Even though there was an apology, and it was accepted, it helped put a frame around the whole thing. I am not mad and only just a tad bit sad. My ego is more hurt than any feelings. The whole thing was more of an epiphany. The realization that I am nothing to this man; not even a blip on his radar screen. It was truly just a nice thought in my mind, but nothing that would ever come to fruition. It was a pleasant daydream and I was never under the hallucination that it could be more. I'm not completely clueless and haven't been from the get-go, but the fantasy nicely occupied the drive home, the wait in the grocery line, or my thoughts just before drifting off to sleep. Now that I no longer have this infatuation, I guess I'll revert back to thoughts of "to do lists", homework and solutions to the world's problems. And when it comes down to it, I am really too old for this kind of silliness anyway.

Uh oh, I can feel my cynical side coming out.

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