I Don't "Do"...EPILOGUE

Oh, the joys of living in a small college town...

I worked late tonight...until about six. I'm sitting in my office, and somebody opens the door a crack. Before I can see who it is, the door shuts again. I hear some girl answer her cell phone in the stairwell outside of my office.

Keep working. About ten minutes later, the door opens again...just a crack, then shuts. Then, the sound of the same girl's voice coming from the stairwell.

Nobody EVER comes to my office after four in the afternoon. Unless they know I'm there. That's why I like to work late...

As I'm leaving the building, cell phone vibrates in my pocket. Answer the call (noticing I have about five missed calls at the same time).

"Oh my God...you really are a librarian, aren't you?"

Okay. PTSD flashbacks. Creepy feeling. Look over my shoulders. Getting paranoid.

"Who is this?" I ask.

"[Jane Doe]" the woman says. "From Friday...oh, sorry. Had your cell number on the back of your card and I didn't know if you were in your office."

Note to self: Quit pre-writing cell numbers on the back of business cards.

"Oh. Hey. How's it going?"

Yeah, not very creative, but its the best I could do.

Long story short, this girl was calling to say that her roommates had thought, indeed, something had happened between she and I. After exchanging very vague pleasantries and several periods of awkward silence, the purpose of her call finally became apparent.

"Um...this sounds really bad...um..."

"Nope."

"Okay. Good. I was pretty sure, but not completely."

"No problem."

"You're really a librarian..."

"Yup."

That pretty much sums up the first 15 minutes of our conversation - repeated questions about a) was I sure nothing happened, b) questions about my professional life, and c) me responding in short answers.

Then I asked if she was the person who kept opening my door tonight. Apparently, one of her friends was in the building and wanted to "verify" I was who I said I was.

Who would lie about being a librarian? I have yet to meet a librarian or other library staff member anywhere who uses that as a pick-up line. More importantly, why would I lie about what I do? Especially to a girl with whom my only connection is her throwing up out my pick-up window.

Then she asked me if I wanted to go to some 80s Night thing with her friends. Or maybe go out Friday.

I politely declined but thanked her for the offer, exchanged more pleasantries, and hung up.

It was at this moment I came to a startling conclusion --

Somewhere, at some random time in the recent past, I must have died and gone to hell. Or worse. Like an episode of the O.C. Maybe worse...ugh...Dawson's Creek.

That is the most rational explanation I can come up with at this point.