Monkey Barring

I’ve been called a lot of things in my twenty-some years.  Some good, some not, some true, some false.  Generally I believe that the names people call you, particularly when it comes to the negative kind, are more a reflection on them and their issues than they are on you.  I make every effort to live my life with honesty, integrity and compassion.  Any sleep I lose at night is only because my mind has an off switch that has been known to break down on me from time to time.  So those negative names don’t really bother me anymore; it can actually be entertaining. 

A couple months ago, I gave my number to someone I wasn’t really that interested in.  A friend of mine always teases me for doing this, but I always adamantly reply that people can surprise you if you give them a chance.  Well unfortunately, this guy wasn’t one of those people.  He didn’t surprise me.  In fact, he just started to annoy me. 

The poor guy’s first mistake was to text me to invite me out for a drink.  Come on guys!!  You should be ashamed at how often this happens.  Respect a girl enough to pick up the phone and call.  (Which he did.. after I said I don’t accept invitations over text message, but that he was welcome to call me and ask.) 

Then, we were having trouble lining up our schedules to grab a drink, so we had to pick a day that was over a week in advance.  Great.  Done.  See ya then.  

…But then he kept texting me!  Every. Single. Day.  “How was your day?  How was your weekend?  What did you do, who did you see?  What’s your plan tomorrow??”

Sigh... I get it.  You don’t want to lose momentum.  A text or two, I can deal with.  But seriously, every day??!  This was  a week before our first date!  Buddy, I don’t know you yet.  I’m saving all my dynamic conversation for this drink-thing we’re having next week.  In my humble opinion, you have to resist the temptation to have your first conversation via text.  Some people may not mind, but I am not interested in getting to know someone over text messages.  I’m just not that kind of girl.

More than anything, I started to realize that I just wasn’t looking forward to this drink-thing.  I kept thinking I could be using that evening for a million other things on my list.  Plus, it’s just not fair to Mr. Texter to waste his evening on something I already know is a dead end.  So I decided to call the guy and break the plans.  I chickened out from telling him the real reason and instead used this lame yet classic cop-out:

“I’m so sorry.  I was seeing someone, and it wasn’t totally official, but now it just got official.  I won’t be able to make it next week, but I wish you all the luck in the world.”

“That’s cool.  So you’re a monkey-bar-er,” he said, half-joking, (which also means half-serious).

“Huh?  A what?”

“You monkey-bar from one thing to the next, always looking for the next wrung, and don’t let go of the last one until you get there.”

Humpf.  I hadn’t heard that one before.  I said “Touché, fair enough” and we both had a little chuckle, me mostly because I had no way to deny it.

Ironically, I realized later that he wasn’t completely wrong.  I guess I am sort of a “monkey-bar-er.”  I currently have Agent A that I’m using while I swing myself to a better one.  I got an offer from another small (but better) Agent B, but I’m sitting on it because I was certain that I’d be able to reach a little higher to Agent C at my commercial showcase next week.  But I just found out the showcase was postponed until January.  I doubt Agent B will wait for me to get back to them in two months, so I’m actually debating on seeing how we work together until the showcase… and then, who knows?

  

Despite that Mr. Texter thinks differently because of my little white lie, I’m not a dating monkey-bar-er.  But in Hollywood?  I guess I am a little guilty. 

But there’s a key difference here.  This is Hollywood and it ain't personal.  It’s business.