Chapter 3
HIS MESSAGE READ:
I'm really a guy. I'm younger than 90—just turned 89 last month as a matter of fact. You’re right, same city. I think I’ve been through that area where you live. Are you as much of a chick as you seem? And you weren’t weird. No weirder than usual, anyway.
I sent off my response with a big grin on my face. He’d just turned 89? I’d eat my dongle if he meant that seriously.
Yes, I am female. I'm much younger than 90, unlike you, oh ancient one. So you think I’m usually weird? Ding ding ding...and your first clue was...
His reply was immediate:
Not really weird...let’s just say, you stand out. My first clue...I’d say it was your picture of Slutsky's chest done like it was stained glass. Then the one you did of his package. The caption, if I recall, said something like, "his magnificence as I envision it in 800 zoom. Who knows what swimmers lie within?"
I bit my lip and responded, OMG. I forgot about that one. Those were early days when I was a little obsessed.
Suggesting you aren’t now? Sorry to break it to you but if the Olympics had a celebrity-stalking event, you’d win gold.
Ha ha. Are you saying you don’t obsess about actresses and supermodels? Every guy I know does.
Can’t say I do. Supermodels tend to have hard bodies. I go for soft, myself.
I stared at the last message and swallowed. I looked down at myself. I did not by any stretch of the imagination have a hard body.
But what made him think he knew how supermodels’ bodies felt?
I started to reply, then saw he'd sent another message.
What’s your name, so I don’t have to keep calling you Slutskys2Hot?
I froze. Hell. This was going way beyond the land of New Years resolutions. This was getting into dangerously flirtatious territory.
Go for it! Go for it! I could practically hear my girlfriends’ voices screaming at me.
Cecily, I told him, my fingers actually shaking as I typed it.
Pretty name. Did you realize we’re essentially having a text conversation? Let’s take the leap. Here’s my number.
My heart was beating so hard I swear it bruised my ribcage. Shy? Me, oh, yeah. Him...maybe not. Somebody who said Let’s take the leap couldn’t be that shy.
I was going to do it! I was going to text ThinkTank!
I grabbed my phone, then punched in his number before I could think twice.
Me: Hi
ThinkTank: Hey
Me: So were you born with the name Think Tank or…
ThinkTank: No, but people do call me that.
Me: Because you’re a genius? Or because you’re built like a tank?
ThinkTank: I'd never admit to either one...I'm too modest.
Me: ha ha
ThinkTank: No, it’s the way I stop and think when I get instructions. I have to work things out in my head, analyze a situation.
Me: With your job? What do you do? If you don’t mind my asking. :)
ThinkTank: These days...I’m trying to figure things out, career-wise. It’s complicated. So the honest answer is, I’m not sure. When did you start drawing?
Me: At nine. Age 9. Not 9:00.
ThinkTank: And now you are younger than 90 and older than…
Me: I’m 24. U? And pls don’t say 89!!!
ThinkTank: U+2
Me: Wow. We’re close in age.
I smacked my palm to my forehead for being obvious and tried again.
Me: When did you start drawing?
ThinkTank: About a year ago I think.
Me: !!!!
ThinkTank: What?
All I could think was that he’d started around the time he’d appeared on the forum. A year wasn’t that long for learning art.
Me: Are you planning to make it a career?
ThinkTank: Fuck no.
Me: THANK GOD
ThinkTank: I suck that bad as an artist, huh?
Me: …
Then I felt bad for essentially agreeing with him. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. But I also didn't want to lie.
Me: No. Really. You’re fine???
ThinkTank: LOL.
Me: If you don’t want to go pro then why join BodyDraw?
ThinkTank: Some buddies pointed it out to me. They thought I’d get a kick out of it. Turns out it’s interesting. Especially the anatomy aspect.
Me: You’re interested in anatomy?
ThinkTank: And body kinesiology. One thing I’m considering in the next phase of my life is sports medicine.
Me: I could see that. Lots of artists study medical anatomy drawings...why not the other way around?
ThinkTank: Plus there’s an amusing chick who frequents the forum.
I blinked rapidly, feeling gut-punched. He liked some girl on the forum!
I manned up and replied as if I couldn’t care less.
Me: Oh, I see. Right.
ThinkTank: ...
Me: I guess it’s a good place to meet girls.
ThinkTank: I wouldn’t say that exactly.
Me: ??
ThinkTank: There are better places. But not necessarily better girls.
Me: I...see?
ThinkTank: LOL Miss hints much?
When I’d started texting, I’d sprawled out on the sofa. After I read his last text, the other shoe dropped and I sat up abruptly. My whole body started to quiver.
Me: What hints?
I immediately wished I could take back the text. I sounded like a complete idiot.
ThinkTank: Oh, Cecily
Me: Are you talking about me?
ThinkTank: Well, we’re meeting right now, aren’t we?
Me: Yes? I guess, maybe yes. I just didn’t realize you thought of me as a girl.
Did that sound...wrong somehow?
Apparently so, because there was a delay of several minutes. I thought he’d gone.
ThinkTank: Uh...you’re not?
Me: No, I am. Totally.
ThinkTank: And you were born one?
Me: Yes yes I was in fact.
ThinkTank: Sure about that?
Me: Well I don’t literally have a memory, but all available witnesses and my birth certificate seem to say so, so...yes. No worries there. Ha
ThinkTank: I’d love to see your face right now. It’s blushing, isn’t it?
Me: …
ThinkTank: Show me?
Me: Show you what?
ThinkTank: Now that’s a good question...what parts of you should I ask to see....no I meant your face.
I was in shock. Was this flirting? If so, who had started it? And wait, he wanted to see my face? My first instinct was to bury my head in one of the sofa cushions far away from a camera.
While I was trying to figure out how to respond, he texted back: Or not...
I panicked. I typed: I should go.
ThinkTank: Yeah, me too. It’s later than I thought.
Me: OK, well, I’m going. Bye. This was nice. To talk. To you. Bye. See you. Later on the forum. Maybe.
ThinkTank: Later.