My dearest friends, I’d like to open the recent situation up to the audience for input.
103 and I had been dating for about a month. We were going to hang out for the 6th time this past Thursday. He called at 5 pm to ask if we could push it a little later. Sure! At 10 pm, with no word from him, I sent him a text.
“About to pour my second glass of wine - what’s your status?”
I went to bed because what else was a girl supposed to do?
At midnight, my phone rang. It wasn’t him. But I was awake now, and I was concerned. I called 103. The calls failed. His phone was dead. I sent him a Facebook message.
“Hey, getting a little worried. Everything alright?”
At 12:40 am, he texts me.
“Hey sorry, my friends got me fucked up and my phone died before I coukd get hone.” (sic)
Oh, did they? Did they strap you to a table and funnel alcohol down your throat? So intense; what abusive friendships you have.
So, in my recently awoken fury, I replied, “Next time you’d rather do something else, let me know so I can too. Glad you’re not dead. Goodnight.”
I went to sleep sad. I woke up in a rage. I told my friends. I told some coworkers. Everyone said the same thing, “man, when that hangover wears off, he better have one hell of an apology.” We even laughed. What a silly fuck-up. I’ll just busy myself ‘til that phone call.
And then, nothing. That was Friday. And I have literally heard nothing.
This is a man who pursued me the whole time, set up all the dates, would call me to talk, introduced me to his friends, and then poof! And rest assured, he’s alive. There are Facebook photos of him having Le Fun. Smiling.
I am, really, quite flummoxed. What happened to just cancelling? A good old-fashioned Slow Fade? Why call at 5 pm to push at all? Why not just ditch me from the very get-go? How did a fun, happy conversation at 5 pm turn into him being like, “eh I’ll just get wasted, not call her, make her sit alone in her apartment ignoring other plans, and then drunkenly text her past midnight”?
So many riddles! So many easy answers!
I know, I know. My gut response is to
burn his house down call him to find out what happened, but really, where would that get me other than exactly where I am with additional hurt feelings? This isn’t a movie. I’m not going to call him just to have him slather me with sad apologies and flowers. There will be no grand gestures. There would only be subtle blow-offs, more silence, and a self-induced Slow Fade. Even if he were to, best case scenario, have no idea I was that mad, would you really want to date someone who just opts to get tanked over seeing you and thinks that’s OK? That, good sir, is an Oh-no-no.
So here are my options.
1. Say nothing. This is what I usually do. I am a very proud person. But we do need to keep in mind my personal social experiment of learning to be more vulnerable. “Nothing” would only last so long in a town this small. And it would likely end when we run into each other drunk at bars. GREAT IDEA.
2. Call him. In theory, after my whole No Text December, this is probably what I should do. But because of his recent seeming cowardice, I would probably get his voicemail. And even if I didn’t, where does the script go after, “uhh.. hey, what, um, happened here?” Also, I’m way too fucking polite for the phone. “Oh, um, well, I wish you the best. See you around town. Goodbye.” You enema-bag.
3. Text him. Oh my god, everyone’s favorite option! Look, this is inevitably the WORST IDEA IN THE BUNCH. And I need to be honest with you, I might do it. Because whatever, fuck it.
4. Do ANYTHING other than text him. This is the best option.
I’m confused. I’m disappointed. But more than anything else, I’m angry. Every time someone does something so casually thoughtless, I feel like they chip away at my foundation and I am left standing unsteadily on one very thin pole. Over the weekend, I put another 50 miles on the bike. I bought a slinky new dress. And this morning, I put on fuschia lipstick, blew a kiss in the mirror, and walked out my door knowing he was sleeping a few streets over. No telling when your paths will cross in a small town, but rest-assured I will be ready.