De Ce Monde Secret de l’ Amelie Americaine

“Maybe it is  a television thing.” I wrote to a friend in a recent letter. “The men are very friendly and flirtatious, but rarely does it mean anything. They try to come in through the side door and out the back.”

As if G_d himself was listening and was ready to show me once again, what an idiot I was, a guy I work with, who we shall call Mr. Motorcycle, came over to my desk last weekend, and started to be very attentive.

Now Mr. Motorcycle had made passes in the past, but I had brushed them off with a friendly, non-judgmental but slightly detached “thank you.” that has become a staple response I use to relate to men on the job.  No harm, no foul.

Suddenly last week, Mr. Motorcycle kicked it up a notch.   Maybe it was the fact that I  couldn’t  speak because I  had a severe sore throat,  but he became very caring and attentive, making me hot tea, hanging out at my desk, to the point where other women on set were beginning to notice.

Rose, a very lovable, no nonsense stage manager met me in the ladies room, after I had blushed one too many times on set. “He really likes you.” She stated flatly.

“Do you think?” I responded, “Men in our field are generally very…”

“Friendly.” She completed my sentence. “No, he really likes you.”

“Do you think he is a player?”

“No…I’ve known him for awhile and he’s very stable and up front. I’ve never seen him flirt with other women on the job. You guys would be cute together”

“Uh”…I was speechless.  A fundamentally decent guy was flirting with me. Hurrah!

After the show there is mandatory half hour waiting period before we are released for the night.   After packing up my belongings, I found Rose in the fishbowl and sat with my back turned away from the door.

Rose smiled, “He just stopped, looked in the window, and looked right at you.”

“Really!” I didn’t turn around.

It was time to go home. I walked to my car, and headed back to Brooklyn.   When I got home, the following message was on my voice-mail.

“Hey it’s Rose. Just wanted to let you know that after you left he came looking for you. I told him that you left already, and he went running after you.”

Feeling like queen princess of the universe, I started the following work week, feeling very confident and happy. I sat upon my throne, ready for him to walk over and ask me out.

He never did.  Instead he became detached, casual and cool.

I have to say it was a bit of a confidence buster.  There is something to be said for any guy who has a strong enough sense of self that he willing to walk through the front door and ask a girl out, even if he fears that he will be rejected.  As a woman I appreciate that quality far more.

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