July 16, 2000

So Elijah and I were walking to the subway after work on Wednesday, and when we got to his subway stop, he remembered he had a letter he needed to mail to his son at camp. The mailbox was across the street, so I told him I would mail it for him, as he was on his way to the 1/9, and I was on my way…um…across the street.

He seemed fine with this idea, and handed me the letter, which had the address typed on the envelope, and which I told him I would read as soon as he was safely ensconced in the bowels of the city. I was kidding, of course, but as soon as I said that, he decided that it would be a good idea to accompany me to the mailbox.

I took mock offense at the fact that he did not trust me enough to mail his goddamn letter. He made a nice save by saying that he just wanted to spend more time with me. So we cross the street with about 1,000 other people, all of whom I curse out in very elaborate and original ways, and fight our way to the mailboxes, of which there are two. There are often two mailboxes next to each other on various street corners -- one for letters going to a specific zip code, and one for "all other mail." Now, let it be known that I can read, and that I have never mailed a letter in the wrong box. But, it was rush hour, and Elijah, whether he really didn't trust me or he really wanted to spend more time with me, had flushed me something fierce. There were people closing in on me from all sides. It is completely understandable that I might inadvertently go for the wrong box.

Which I did.

Elijah immediately took the letter from my hand as I protested. "I wasn't going to put it in there! I would've noticed it was the wrong box! I am not an idiot! Give me another chance!" He laughed, said he had complete confidence in me, and mailed the letter himself. I really felt stupid, like I had just proven what an incompetent buffoon I was. He continued laughing, and went back across the street to catch his train as I headed north on foot, grumbling about how if he hadn't come with me, I wouldn't have even gone to those mailboxes, because there were too many people around them, and me, I am a people-hater of the highest order. I would've walked home and mailed it from a more familiar box, and this whole near-fiasco would've been avoided. It was Elijah's fault. Following me to the mailbox. Clearly, obviously his fault.

The next day he emailed me ostensibly about something work-related. In a post script, as if it were an afterthought, as if it were not the entire raison d'être of the missive in question, he asked if I wanted to have lunch with him. He asked this in a very endearing and amusing way. I responded to his work-related query accurately and professionally. And, of course, in a post script, I said that yes, I would be happy to break bread with him that afternoon. In a post post script, because I just couldn't let it go, couldn't bear to think of him thinking I was capable of making anything remotely resembling a mistake, I promised him that I really, absolutely truly would have mailed his letter correctly.

He wrote back confirming our lunch date, and then included this little gem: "By the way, since there seems to be some lingering doubt about this, I consider you a very smart, beautiful, competent, trustworthy, witty and well-read young woman with long hair and am sure you would have done a superb job of mailing the letter." Of course, I swooned.

And of course, as of Thursday, as of the day that I quit, as of the day that I had decided that yes, I want to date him, that we have been on dates, that we are dating, he has decided that he is, once again, going back to his other quasi-relationship with a woman who has been dating someone else for the past ten years and has no intentions of stopping. He is going back to this woman, which he has done on about a weekly basis since I started talking to him,. This week, however, for reasons that I hope are abundantly apparent, I am a little more perturbed than usual

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