Tuesday, October 04, 2005



Yesterday, my car wouldn't start when I went to leave work. This is the second time that has happened.
The first time was a few months ago. When the car wouldn't start, I called the boy I'm in love with, and he came straight to my work with his jumper cables, and got it started right up. Then he drove right behind me all the way home, in case anything went wrong. And we went out for dinner and drinks. He let me keep the jumper cables in case it happened again. I guess it doesn't sound like much, but it is way more than I thought he'd do when I had initially called him that day. And it made me happy that he wanted to help me.
So, then yesterday, when it happened again, as annoyed and frustrated as I was, (After the first time, I took my car to the mechanic, who told me there was nothing wrong with it.) I was also kind of hopeful for a re-enactment of him coming to my rescue.
But then I thought about it, and I was afraid, he would come, but not be as nice. Or maybe he'd say that he was too busy to help and I should call someone else. Maybe he wouldn't even answer the phone in my moment of need. And any of those options would just make me so sad. Not asking seemed safer.
So instead of calling him and giving him a chance to help or hurt me, I went upstairs and asked our technical consultant to come down and give me a jumpstart. He didn't have cables, so I had to use the boy's. I even know how to do it on my own now, since he taught me when he left me the cables the first time. I just needed the second car.
And I got my car started, and got myself home probably way faster than when I had to wait for the boy to show up from his house. But that didn't really make me feel better at all. Because the boy wants me not to need him, and yesterday, I guess I didn't. But I wanted to.

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