Would You Run Away? Would You Stay?

So when it rains, it pours.

About three weeks ago an online chat turned into what I'd call the chat version of drunk dialing. I saw him in IRC and messaged him to exchange a hello how you doing and before I knew it he was flirting, teasing and suggesting, his tone definitely different than his normal reserved attitude. Confused at first by this change (he'd been keeping me at a careful distance, only once or twice hinting of the reason behind the distance he studiously maintained) it became clearer when he told me he was drunk. Inebriation opened up the floodgates and he told me more about his life and his relationships with the people in it than I ever assumed he would. He also didn't hint any longer at the reason behind his reserve, telling me he'd kept his distance precisely because from the moment we'd met he'd been interested and he didn't want to be 'that guy.'

The chat as a whole was interesting, to be sure, laced with revelation at first that soon spiraled into innuendo spiced with the witty repartee of two people intent on seeing who could best manipulate the other's reaction. We both wondered who would take the crown from the other, intellectual equals performing an intricate dance. It felt very much like a scene from my favorite movie, Dangerous Liaisons. Even drunk he was very good at it. I enjoyed myself immensely.

We agreed to meet the next day on IRC. He never showed and frankly, I attributed it to a sober day-after kneejerk freakout and let it go at that. He disappeared for weeks, only surfacing last evening. He explained his absence as a need to stop the drinking he was doing and to get a handle on some things in his life. Now that's fine and dandy. He's a big boy with his own life and his own issues and none of those things involve me or will involve me.

I asked him if he remembered that he had invited me to come out and visit him over a weekend this fall. He said he had. He wondered if -- given his disappearing act -- the interest was even still there.

Hm. Food for thought. I admit I am intrigued. I am also hesitant. Boy's got issues. On the one hand, they're not mine and a day or two won't make them so. I can go home and leave them at his feet and say au revoir. On the other, he was a little more pushy sober than I might've liked and how he responds to my dial down request about that will definitely factor into it all.

As it is, I played extremely hard to get, dangling just enough carrot out there to keep him wondering if he'd make some tactical errors with me. He had. He'd conceded the court to me and I felt no guilt in taking the field. The next play is up to me.

I think the crown is mine.

((Song: "What Would Happen" by Meredith Brooks. Lyrics here:
https://www.msu.edu/~ovittles/lyrics/whatwouldhappen.htm ))