My Shattered Dreams of Love

The day after Amos dropped his "I'm not single" bomb, the day after I feigned total indifference to the news and carried on a chirpy conversation about all manner of things with a poise and aplomb that would have made Princess Grace envious, Amos called me again.
"Hey Jane," said the now familiar voice. "Just calling to chat. How are you?"
What I wanted to say was, "As good as anyone can be after spending the last 24 hours sweeping up the pieces of their shattered dreams of love." But instead I said, "Great! Really excited about our trip."
Amos told me that Michelle Jones would be joining us, as well as Rob Johnson and he went on to list a bunch of other names that, at that point, meant nothing to me. They were all, apparently, shining lights of the Canadian media. Amos also gurgled on and on about the Red Deer Report's upcoming "expose" on Rebecca Chestnut. "I'll send it to you before it goes to press," he gushed.
What I wanted to say was, "I'd rather not read a vicious personal attack on some girl who obviously has had some problems and who is probably trying to redeem herself." But instead I said, "Okay. I'll look forward to it." Oh boy, I was being weak and awful.
It was as though my faux indifference had given Amos the freedom to talk about anything, including, unfortunately, his girlfriend. He kept making references to how "rushed" he felt in his relationship, for example, almost baiting me to interfere. I didn't. My faux indifference had also, apparently, done something else. It had given us both the liberty to continue flirting away, on the grounds that, "Well, it's all out in the open, so this is just innocent flirting!"
He phoned and phoned and phoned over those next weeks of late June and early July. Sometimes he called twice a day, on top of several daily emails. The conversations may have differed in superficial ways, but the subtext was always the same:
Amos: Hi Jane, how are you?
Me: Fine. But lusting after you a lot.
Amos: Same here, but pretending otherwise.
Me: Yep, me too.
Amos: I have a crush on you.
Me: Likewise.
Amos: I'm devoted to my girlfriend, though, so don't get the wrong idea.
Me: For sure not. I'm not interested in you as anything other than a platonic friend, anyway, so no problem.
Amos: I feel pressured by my girlfriend, though, to get married really soon and I don't think I'm ready since I just got out of a marriage to an ultra-orthodox harpie with a snood.
Me: Oh, gosh. Well, that's between you and the girlfriend, right? And I'm SO indifferent to your private life that I'm sure I have no wisdom to impart. It's not as though I'm secretly hoping you'll break away from your girlfriend and declare your undying love for me.
Amos: It's not as though I'm dying to do that, either. Boy, we have so much to talk about don't we?
Me: Yep. We agree about so much. Paul Martin sucks, for example.
Amos: He sure does.
Me: Canadians are ridiculous people, completely delusional about Islamic fascism, just for starters.
Amos: Yep, you got that right.
Me: I love talking to you.
Amos: Likewise. Why do you think I call you all the time? We have the same sense of humour, the same politics. We should really be together, but we can't be.
Me: Guess not. But I'm totally okay with that. REALLY.
Amos: It's too bad, because my girlfriend, apart from being pushy, is not a great intellect. I could never talk to her the way I talk to you about any number of things. You're pretty brilliant.
Me: So are you. We belong together.
Amos: I know, but I can't admit it.
Me: And I'm too afraid of rejection to say it to you.
Amos: Well, see ya later.
Me: Yep. A couple of weeks from now in Jerusalem!
Amos: Mazel Tov!