Twelfth Night, or How to Know When the Knave is Just Not That Into You

The Button and I rented a movie recently, the charming bit of chick-flick fluff called “He’s Just Not That Into You.” Then the Accountant and I went to see “Twelfth Night” in the Arb Saturday night. And the two have gotten kind of mashed up in my head….

Olivia: So wait, this was at the end of the date or the beginning of the date?
Viola: End. Why?! Does it matter?
Olivia: Yeah… ‘Nice meeting you’ at the beginning of the date, that’s normal. ‘Nice meeting you’ at the end of the date…it could be a blow off.
Viola: (uncertainly) Maybe it was at the beginning…
Olivia: Okay. That’s fine. He’s gonna call.

Orsino: Look, you seem like a cool girl so I’m going to be honest with you. The guy is never going to call you.
Viola: Really?! How do you know?
Orsino: Because I’m a guy, and that’s just how we do it.
Viola: He said it was nice meeting me!
Orsino: I don’t care if he said you were his favorite female since his mommy or Joanie Cunningham. Over a week went by, okay? He ain’t calling you.
Viola: But maybe he did call, and I didn’t get the message. Or maybe he lost my number. Or is out of town. Or got hit by a cab. Or his grandma died.
Orsino: Or mayyybe he just didn’t call because he has no interest in seeing you again.

Maria: I’m pretty sure that something’s about to happen between us.
Andrew: (knowingly) Ohhhhhhh.
Toby: So then are you at the party like, as his guest? Or like, as his date?
Andrew: (interjecting) I hate that! When you don’t know if you’re a date! So you don’t know if you should bring a friend, or are you like co-hosting? And should you stay to the end to try to get some alone time?
Maria: He didn’t really say. But I’m sure I’m more than a guest. I mean, there have been signs.

Olivia: I can’t text. I’m not charming via text.
Malvolio: Well, maybe you should stop texting.
Olivia: But it’s not just texting. It’s email. It’s voice mail. It’s snail mail.
Malvolio: That IS regular mail.
Olivia: Whatever. None of it’s working. This guy left me a voice mail at work, so I called him at home. And then he emailed to my blackberry, and so I texted t his cell. And then he emailed to my home account. And the whole thing just got out of control. I miss the days when you had one phone number and one answering machine. And that one answering machine held one cassette tape. And that one cassette tape either had a message from the guy or it didn’t. Now, you have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It’s exhausting.