An otherwise confident man sits on a sofa wringing his hands. He feels as though it is the first day of school, the morning of an important test, or anything else that makes one a nervous wreck. His palms sweat, and he makes frequent trips to the bathroom.

He has on his “lucky” shirt — a faded gray number with the words “Crosby, Stills, and Nash” emblazoned on the front — and he rakes at a small Zen rock garden in an attempt to calm himself.

The telephone taunts him from his desk. It makes him forget the easy conversation he had with her last week at the bar and that time they discussed movies around the water cooler. It makes him forget that he was actually rather funny. That he was impressive. And that he looked damn good if he might say so himself.

The telephone turns easy statements like "I really enjoyed talking with you at the coffee shop last week..." into doctoral dissertations. It can make the clever and eloquent look ordinary and foolish. He paces the floor again... why is it so hard to call?

He recalls advice he received from friends:

"Wait at least 48 hours... you don't want to come on too strong."
"You've gotta wait at least 3 days... starting tomorrow morning."
"Give her a week. Make her think about it."

He tries to remember the time spent with her although as the days pass the memories become more and more vague; fearing that if he waits too long the image of her will disappear altogether and the cocktail napkin he has been clutching like a security blanket will decompose in his sweaty palm. He realizes that all the designer clothing and the carefully selected pieces of retro chic furniture in his living room can't give him the one thing he needs now: Courage.

It hasn't been a week yet and he knows it. He also knows that, in his late 20's, he’s too mature to be playing games. Yet he walks away from the telephone. Perhaps the thrill of getting the number was greater than the thrill of actually using it to connect with someone. In its own sleek, silent way, the telephone taunts him again because it has won.

Meanwhile, a different man holds a telephone to his ear. He holds it with conviction, knowing that talking with her again is more important than fear, waiting a week, or appearing to come on too strong. Indeed the same easy confidence that got him the number in the first place is the same confidence that will carry him through the telephone call. He is calling, quite simply, because she matters.

“Hello,” she says. He will later explain that he sensed eager anticipation in her voice, but will also admit that he was probably making it up.

“Hi, I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed getting to know you over coffee the other night... ”

And as they talked he experienced something less like fear and more resembling life.

Still a little frightened of the phone? Well, you are already online, so why not start a quick search to find a hot single in your area?