After a couple of weeks of incredibly beautiful weather (including some magnificent thunderstorms), Mother Nature has decided to piss in our collective mid-western cornflakes by serving up a helping of 30 degree weather and drizzle in the overnight hours. From 72 to 31 is quite a jump in the span of 12 hours, but it’s nothing new in these parts. What is interesting is that the drop in the temperatures seems to coincide with the rather chilly reception I have gotten from both Michael and Caleb over the last 24 hours.I called Michael yesterday morning to touch bases and see where his upcoming job promotion stood. My phone calls and e-mails over the past week had gone unanswered but I had chalked that up to a full schedule and the upcoming professional changes. I think I might have read that wrong. His answers were perfunctory, leaving me to carry the brunt of trying to generate any sort of conversation whatsoever. After about fifteen minutes of enduring my inane babbling, Michael stated that he was in the process of doing a load of laundry and needed to go so that he could transfer his clothes the two feet from the washer to the dryer. And with that, he hung up. No bye, take care, kiss my ass. Nothing.

Caleb was a bit more perplexing. Following a three hour phone conversation we had shared on Saturday night regarding the dynamics of a successful relationship and what we were both looking for, Caleb said good night. Not twenty minutes later, he called me back and we talked for nearly another forty-five minutes, during which time it seemed as though we were both on the verge of formally asking the other out on a official date at several points. Of course, the spectres of our disasterous prior relationships reared their ugly heads and we both skulked off to our safe, solitary corners. Sunday afternoon, he called again and we talked for nearly and hour. Everything seemed fine. Then last night, I called him and it was like he had no idea who I was. The few responses he gave had to be pulled from him (and since my first query was “can you talk right now?” so I’m sure it wasn’t an issue of not being able to speak freely). I may be a lot of things but I am not someone who foists himself on others when he’s not welcome, so after about five minutes of “yes,” “no,” and “good” sprinkled in between incredibly awkward silences, I told him I needed to get going and he responded with “yeah, okay…talk to you again some time.”

Now, before you lambast me with vicious invectives, label me a deceptive two-timer, and demand I begin sewing scarlet “A”s to all my best t-shirts, let me clear up two points. First of all, Michael knows I talk to Caleb. In fact, he has encouraged me to foster the relationship and see where it may go because as he points out, if we are going to make a go of it together there should be no question in my mind that he is the one I want. Second, Caleb knows about Michael and has said that he believes that he is the better man for me and is going to prove it. If one asks about the other, I answer their question in a forthright manner but do not offer up extraneous information to make the other jealous.

Which begs the question, “What would Felicity do if the two men she was torn between treated her like that?” And of course the answer is sleep with Simon Rex from her art class. Or sleep with her professor’s son and adopt a homeless dog which she ultimately has to put down by the end of the episode. Or sleep with the handsome doctor at the clinic where she is serving time for breaking into the campus pool after hours and swimming drunk. Or go to a frat party, get drunk, play strip ping-pong, go home with a frat boy, and have pics of the two of them in bed sent out in a mass e-mail to the student body.

Huh. You know looking back, that Felicity was kind of a dumb bitch –and slutty to boot. Maybe she wasn’t a good role model for college girls and gay men after all.

I think I’ll just set Michael and Caleb up on a date and save myself for John Stamos.