When it rains it pours.
Woke up this morning feeling like hard-boiled ass. It’s like some rapid-fire gastroenteritis thing. Had to spend the morning with a blistering migraine and my head in the toilet. Had a fever and instead of getting chills, I felt like my body was going to boil from the inside out. I had to point a box fan directly at myself. Taking a shower felt like the Olympics. Going to work really felt like the Olympics. I feel better than I did this morning but still not great. I think I caught it from one of my clients who was at work when she should have been at home. Just sayin’.
Arsey Darcy has gone AWOL. I talked to him on Sunday and have heard crickets and tumbleweeds ever since. I imagine he’s either twisting his guts in a knot trying to think of what to do on another date or he’s taking the coward’s way out and bailing on me without at least telling me so. I hate it when men do that shit. They act like our feelings are so g*ddamn fragile and they don’t want to tell us “hey, not interested anymore,” but they’ll prolong our agony with a slow torture of “I wonder what happened? When is he gonna call? Did I do something wrong?” Ugh. This is why women hate dating, especially in these early, nebulous stages of the game. If he is so painfully shy and awkward that he must periodically disappear to a cave to find the courage to call again, no thanks. I enjoyed the second date and he seemed to as well. When he called over the weekend, I talked to him to give him a shot in the arm of encouragement. If that’s not enough, I don’t know what else to do for the guy. My friend Brian and I were having a whole dialogue about how we can only control our emotions and our reactions to things, not someone else’s. He and I are facing similar problems at the moment but we’re at different stages of the game. It’s good to have a sounding board and a mate in the same boat. Commiserations and such. But all of that is so much easier said than done. You can logically know that you shouldn’t allow someone else’s issues to predicate your day. It’s like these women who weigh themselves and then decide if they are going to have a good day or a bad day based on what the scale says. If you do that, you can consign yourself to a lot of shit days over something that may not even be under your control. (Water weight, bloating, digestion issues, etc.) Same kinda deal with relationships, really. “My partner is having a bad day today so I’m miserable, too.” “This guy didn’t call me, so there must be something wrong with me.” No. Fuck that. I am of the Greg Behrendt school of thought: people are worth a fucking phone call. C’mon. As I am typing this blog, my cell phone is next to me and I’ve actually answered several texts. Sometimes at work I can be on the phone, typing an email, and typing a text virtually simultaneously. Also to quote Greg, busy = asshole. It just does. No one is so busy that he can’t squeeze in a text message or a quick call. Even if it’s on the way to a business meeting or sitting on the porcelain throne. Come to think of it, when I had my head in the toilet this morning, my cell phone was on the bathroom counter. So Arsey Darcy needs to get a clue. I honestly don’t think he’s going about things to be a player or to seem cool. In his case, he’s just so damned awkward that I think it’s more of a “I don’t totally know what I am doing because I am clueless about this. And the least little thing gives me cause for panic, so then I end up paralyzed.” I could be wrong and he may turn out to simply be a giant, shitty butthole. As with many things in life, time will tell.
