I have a confession to make.
Well, a couple. If I was speaking to a priest, "Forgive me father, for I have sinned", would not even begin to cover it-- this is a story of a fake couple moment in which I completely indulged.
I backslid with the one and only unobtainable Ben. (Remember him? Handsome nerd, coworker, had a super serious gf?)
I backslid a lot.... and in a way that's incredibly inexcusable. I could try to come up with reasons (work stress, health scares, loneliness-- all true, but pathetic all the same), but really, who am I kidding? I did exactly what I wanted to in letting him back in and it all culminated in a "weekend of fun" together. Things kicked off on Thursday night when he came over for takeout and a movie. It was to be our very first opportunity for a sleepover, and allow us to get really cozy with each other. Thursday night was actually nothing short of enchanting, and waking up in his arms felt amazing. We both took off Friday from work and had an utterly couplelicious day. (yes, i know it's not a word, but bear with me). We lounged in my apt, grabbed a late breakfast, went to the pool, ate leftovers, failed to leave my apt to go play mini-golf, and then went our separate ways to get fancy for dinner. (A place where he had actually made reservations for us in advance.)
My joy about our fancy dinner was quickly squashed when I realized that he had booked us reservations in a place one of my boys lovingly refers to as "the gayborhood". Obviously, he had not only given some thought to taking me someplace nice, he had also determined exactly which area we could go to without fear of being caught. His, "you know, I never come here...", was really not lost on me. Our original (or so I thought), plans to go out for drinks were also tabled because he expressed feeling under the weather. This may be true, but I have my doubts.
Back to my place we went for a movie and playtime alone in my space. This was also charming, and we had another (seemingly?) great time.
The next morning, aka today, we awoke to him proclaiming still feeling sick and needing to skedaddle for some time with his boys. I asked if we were still on for this evening, and he reassured me that of course we were.
I almost believed him. As he methodically packed up his things, I couldn't help but feeling utter twinges of doubt. I had wanted to confront him at brunch this morning regarding our ridiculous situation, but he seems to be able to sniff out my every move before I can fully formulate the thought. (Sidenote: Someone, please, let me know what my tell is so I can work on it.) I calculated the odds of him showing tonight, and put them at 10-90 for.
We texted this afternoon and firmed up our plans to meet at my place around 9.
9 rolled around. As did 9:20, 9:30, 9:45 before I finally texted. I was giving him until 10:00 before I pulled the - "you're obviously not coming, so I'm heading out". But, I wanted to give him one last chance.
Why do we always do this? Seriously, ladies, back me up here-- you know it's going downhill, you can pull your move or be a doormat, but in that critical moment- you give up the power to a question, for one more soul-sucking moment of disappointment.
So... I finally heard back. Some accident on 14th street, blah, blah. He was still feeling sick, so sorry, and heading to bed.
I can't pretend I'm not upset. But I have No one but me to blame in this situation. I bit my tongue on the phone. (I called to get the final clarity I needed.) We're on for a farmer's market hangout tomorrow where I fully intend to end this entire thing. FO REALS this time. No regrets, no looking back. My intentions at sweetness and questions obviously won't work. And I can't pretend that I'm not having a conversation with myself that's straight out of "he's just not that into you".
As for tonight? I've booked myself into not just one, but two parties and need to find something seriously sexy to throw on. Hopefully, if the rest of my looks incredible, no one else will notice the traces of sadness etched on my face. This will probably be me later: Drunk Girls
On to salvaging Saturday night.
