As we all know, I'm a hopeless romantic and far more hopeless than anything else. I'm a sucker for a good story, especially my own. I recently invested in the book "Why Men Love Bitches" and I'm the girl that the author explicitly tells you NOT to be. I suppose it's just one of those character flaws that I'm working on, along with keeping the top of my dresser tidy. So here's the latest, and how I have finally prevailed... sort of.
I had been talking to some guy for a few months. He would do the normal boy thing and arrange to see me and then break our plans in such a lovely way that would keep me hanging on. To get to the point swiftly, he called the night prior to make plans to hang out for the weekend - which involved me flying there and a trip to the zoo! (We all know how I feel about the zoo! Actung! Elefanten!). I called my flight attendant bff to gush and plan the wardrobe. About an hour later, I get a text, no less, explaining that he had to rain check our plans because he was going to Vegas with the boys instead. I was floored. I mean, at least grow a pair and call me! This was followed up with a series of I owe you a visit, text me to let me know you got this, so sorry, etc. I ignored them and changed my MyFace status to "going to the zoo!".
In the morning, I set my alarm for departure time to send a text stating that "I just barely made it on the plane and got the last seat! See you at said time, said gate, and flight number!" all while never leaving the comforts of my own bed! I proceeded to turn off my phone to simulate the plane ride. The level of excitement to turn my phone back on was almost too much; and it was far more gratifying than I ever could have expected. Homeslice blew that shit up with something along the lines of... "did u not get my texts??? how could you not check your text messages??? god how many more times could i have told you not to come! i'm so pissed... fuck. this is a shitshow now" and two hours later, followed up with an "sorry for this morning i was just frustrated... trying to work it out". I laughed for over an hour, reveling in the fact that I indeed made him squirm all day.
And here's the part that makes me, well me, and a door mat. My conscience, complete with that utterly annoying Catholic guilt, got the best of me. A bit after arrival time I admitted to having never left the state. But why? Why should I remotely feel any guilt? I shouldn't! The only conclusion that I can draw is that I can't believe I did it. This is not how I roll, and it is not how I like to be treated. The best (the worst?) part is I weaseled my way out of owning up the fact that I'm done. I didn't say the words please leave me alone, lose my number, I'm just not that into you, oh no its definitely you and not me. Perhaps I had owned up to what I was really thinking this time, and so many others, I'd feel better about it. But that would require confrontation, which to me is a fate worse than death! Arg! Damn those little nuns and years of learning what it means to sin and treating people how you'd like to be treated. Blast and dammit!