Moxie

I was done with Jack. Done. He didn't act surprised that I knew about the movie and he used the pronoun "we" without any other descriptors. "We just got done watching the movie and now I have to go home to work." I figured the only reason he was calling me was because he knew he was busted.

"But there's something I really want to tell you."

"I can't right now. I gotta go. You can tell me some other time."

I hung up the phone. Incredible, I thought. He doesn't care about me at all. I made a gin and tonic and sat down in front of the computer and remade another on-line profile. I needed a date with someone--anyone--else.

***

A new friend hired a local improv troupe to perform at her birthday party Saturday night. The group hung around afterwards and I went and made my hellos while grabbing another beer.

"You're the Seussical girl!"

Awesome. A new nickname. They had asked for a style of theatre and I shouted "Seussical!" to which no one knew what that meant. After I explained what it was, the boys laughed and did the best they could to improv a scene in the style of musical Dr. Seuss.

"Yeah, you made me feel dumb for shouting it out and no one knew what it was," I teased.

"No I loved it! It proved real improv because you had to explain it and we had to then perform it." He opened a fresh beer, "Have you been to our theatre before?"

"No, I just saw y'all at the Park events last summer."

"Do you remember me?" his friend asks.

"No."

"Were you hammered?"

I wasn't, but it was too soon to deliver a blow to the actor's ego. "Yes."

"I still can't believe you wouldn't remember me!" He lifted up the brace he uses to walk and acknowledged it.

"Well there was a guy in a wheelchair there last summer, right?"

"Yeah, but he works for the other improv house."

"Well I remember him! Maybe if you were more handicapped, I would have remembered you too!" I joked, and then realized immediately what an asshole comment that was.

The first guy doubles over laughing, "You've got moxie kid! What are you doing after the party?"

"I dunno."

"Well we're going drinking in [borough]. You want to join us?"

I probably would have said no had it not been the same borough that I live in. But it was and I was still mad at Jack. We exchanged numbers and they said they would call me when they were settled in a bar, and they left while I stayed on with my friends.

I met up with the group of guys a little after midnight. It's been awhile since I immersed myself in a new group and I was grateful for the opportunity. This is what I needed. Not surprisingly, I fit in with the group of guys very well. They may have been improv actors, but I can hold my own in wit and humor.

I was warned about one guy in particular. He was from New York and was crude and crass. So when I knocked him off his pedestal three separate times, I was formally inducted into the group.

"You've got moxie kid; we like you!" they cheered.

"Why do you keep saying that I have moxie?"

"Because you do! I can already tell: you're opinionated, sassy, and if you think someone is wrong, you have no problem putting him in his place."

I wasn't comfortable with the idea that I project those characteristics to people that don't know me. The girl they were depicting, I can describe in one word: bitch. I brushed the idea away, seeing as they are enjoying the girl with moxie, "And what's with the kid? Why do you keep calling me a kid?"

"That just goes with the saying. You can't say 'moxie' without 'kid.'"

"Ah."

I liked the guy. I wasn't immediately attracted to him--the boy needed a new haircut and an ironing board in a desperate kind of way--but as I talked with him, I realized that he's both cool and easy-going. He charms without trying too hard and he mingles with the group.

Instead being parked next to my side. Like his friend, the one I couldn't remember from last summer.

The friend was warm. He used his crutch effortlessly and I didn't have a problem with it at all, but as the night continued, the friend transitioned from warm to, well, forward.

"You deserve a steak dinner and a bottle of wine for putting up with my friends the way you do. What about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Mother's Day." Stop trying so hard! my head pleaded.

"Well, whatever we become..."

Whatever we've become? I've known you for two hours. Just drink your beer and relax like your friend over there... mmmm.

It's entirely possible that the guy was only being cool because there was no pressure, because it was obvious that the friend had already staked claim to me. But what about what I wanted?

When it was time for me to go--it was after 4 a.m. and we had moved on the guy's house which was only a few miles from my own--the guy gave me a perfect hug.

"You're welcome here anytime. See ya later, Moxie. That's what I'm calling you for now on."

Awesome. A new nickname. I was hoping for an in to exchange numbers, but his friend butted in, "I'll walk you to your car."

As we walked to my car, he spoke of future dates he wanted to take me on, and I wasn't opposed to them, but I wanted to see if there was anything with the first guy--the one who dubbed me Moxie.

Is that possible? To transition to the other friend? Or is that something out of my league?