Not so much

"Hi, it's me." He spoke as if I should already know the voice. I did, actually, but only because I'd just spoken with him - again - an hour and a half before. And he'd left a message earlier than that.

"Hi. I'm sorry, to whom am I speaking?" There is a select few who are worthy of "It's me" recognition when they call this number. The rest are expected to be polite and greet with a name.

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "It's Mike. We spoke earlier?"

No shit. "Oh, hey Mike. What can I do for you?" I cradled the phone between my ear and neck, continuing the scribble onto my notepad. There was no reason for him to be calling me again. I'd already set everything up that I needed to, and I thought I'd made it clear that I wasn't willing to engage in casual chitchat.

"Well, I was just thinking as I was driving home from work. I was worried that I sounded rude on the phone when I called you before," he said, stammering a bit. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. If anything, I'd been the one to come off as abrupt, cooly asking for the information and declining the breakfast invitation. Again.

We had both sat in a crowd earlier in the week, laughing and drinking coffee with the rest of the patrons. He kept trying to speak to me and I humored him politely, but there was something that made me uncomfortable - probably that he never seemed quite comfortable in his own skin. You'd think with nearly four decades of practice, it wouldn't be a problem.

He'd called me when I'd returned to my desk later that day and asked if I was, by any chance, single. Everyone whipped around with grins when they heard me reply that I was flattered, but I had a boyfriend.

He'd offered to help with setting up another project. He offered to meet up with me and drive me out to the location, which I wasn't familiar with. I politely replied that I would just get the directions and call the other gentlemen myself, thank you. I thought to myself about how there was no way in hell I was going to be in a car alone with him.

And thus Tyler, my strong, ex-college-football-player boyfriend with a heart of gold but serious jealousy and anger management issues, was created.

And now he was still talking about how he thought he'd been rude.

"I just wanted to call and apologize about it. I hope you didn't take offense or anything."

"No worries," I replied. "I didn't think you were rude at all. The thought never even crossed my mind."

"I felt bad about it."

"Don't, Mike."

Pause. "So I'll see you next week, when you're in town?"

I bit my lip. I didn't want to be mean. He'd helped me out with the project and I appreciated it. But I didn't understand what part of "No, I'm not interested," he couldn't grasp. I didn't want to have to spell it out. You. Me. No way in hell.

Redirect. "Thanks for your help with everything. I appreciate it."

"Oh. Well, OK. I'll talk to you soon, then."

"Have a good day, Mike."

"You too." Pause. "OK. Bye."

I hung up and exhaled. I was sure he was harmless. Well-intentioned.

But there was still something nagging at me, and I felt uncomfortable.
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Name has been changed