My life, the Seinfeld episode

I got home late last night from my date with Dreamy, and fell asleep immediately when my head hit the pillow. Half an hour later I was wide awake, brimming with excitement and utterly incapable of slumber, thinking back over what a great date I had. Eventually I took a sleeping pill and drifted off, drowsy and happy.

First thing in the morning, I headed out to join Cousine, one of my two French cousins, for a day trip to the Cape. Upon arrival, we meandered over to the beach and I told her all about my date. Then I started giving instructions to my phone, asking it politely to please ring, beep, anything. The downside to a good first date: day-after contact anxiety. (I did get a nice goodnight, I-had-a-good-time text message last night, but still.)

My phone remained stubbornly silent while we swam, read, chatted, and napped. Finally we went to buy sandwiches, and as we sat and ate them, it rang -- a number I didn't recognize. I answered and a male voice said, "Hey, Heathen!" My heart leapt: Dreamy! He continued: "I just got tickets to the Sox game. Are you interested in going?" "Wow!" I exclaimed. "That's so nice. I wish I could, but I'm on the Cape. I don't think I can get back in time." I thanked him for inviting me, and we hung up.

I excitedly filled Cousine in as soon as I hung up. "He must really like me!" I told her.

"You should go meet him!" she responded. "It's not too late. Text him and ask if you can get there a bit after the game starts."

I followed Cousine's instructions and sent off a quick text to Dreamy. Seconds later, his reply came though: "Hey there Heathen! I don't think you meant to send this to me."

Oh. My. Goodness. He was not the one who called. I thought back rapidly over the phone call: Didn't recognize the number. He didn't identify himself. The only reason I assumed it was him was that I was waiting for his call.

Anyway, it's not the end of the world. He just thought I sent a text message to the wrong person; thankfully, I didn't put his name in it. Still, it was pretty disappointing. I had to go buy an ice cream cone to recuperate.

All of this leaves one lingering unanswered question: WHO IS THE MYSTERY MAN WHO INVITED ME TO A SOX GAME TONIGHT?? And what kind of weirdo doesn't identify themselves on the phone?