Remember That Guy I Was Telling You About?
So, it just hit me that I never blogged about that "friend" who I was so elated to be talking to again. (Quarterlife Mocha Girl: This Ish Is for the Birds)
I did it. I got lost in the feeling again. He called and as hard as I tried, I fell right back into it. Liking him. Even though I never verbally told him, he said he knew. He probably could "hear" me smiling and blushing over the phone like I was 13. Even my friends said they could see through me even over the phone. We hung out. I discovered things about him that I didn't know. We had been friends--not the I talk to you everyday kind--but nevertheless, friends. It hit me that since he is a "nomad" (didn't like that about him), I always had to know where he was. I atleast needed to know that he was okay. I really cared about him.
Everything was the same. He still made me laugh. He still expressed his interest in me. Oddly enough, he had always felt that way. I, on the other hand, had reservations for a few reasons. Maybe that was me running away from a relationship. Who knows? For a month, I received texts, phone calls everyday at 11 or 12 p.m. because he knew I was at lunch. He was being consistent because he knew that I labeled him as consistently inconsistent. Good looking out.
Then we hit a brick wall. I wasn't conforming to what he wanted as quickly as he'd like. And yes, I'm very nonchalant and sometimes it's hard to figure me out. (I'm working on that). But sometimes I just won't bend. Even for him. Our conversations became strained and just weirdly disgusting. So a few days, a week went by. No contact. Even when I initiated contact, it was still weird. It bothered me terribly, but I let it go.
I'd gone out one night and got a text from him when I got home saying he was there, also. Oh? We don't speak these days? He called me and we talked. Blah, blah, blah. I wasn't amused at all.
April 9, the day before my wonderful birthday, I get a call from another area code, specifically the area code in which I bought my phone. I still don't have a Memphis number (I'm working on that!). It was like 6 a.m. I dismissed it because I get wrong numbers all the time. Driving to work around 11:30 a.m., I get another call. I answer and surprise, surprise:
Girl: May I speak to Southern Lady?
Me: This is she.
Girl: You don't know me, but.. (yes, she hit me with the Boom, boom pat like Laurie Ann!)
(I'm just knowing it's a friend of my closest male friend getting things twisted, so I get ready to give my "It's not even like that" speech.)
Girl: I'm ____, Nomad's girlfriend (I'm thinking, WTF? I think I went blank for a second) I wanted to know the nature of your relationship with him since he was calling you at 3 a.m.
Me: We're just friends, nothing major. Blah, Blah, blah.
Yeah, I saved his ass. I could've told her all kinds of ish. But I didn't. Why? I don't know. Still in a state of shock. I just wanted to get off the phone. So what, am I 18 years old now? That's some ish I should have experienced in college. I was HOT!! But like Oran "Juice" Jones, I chilled. Kept it moving. No bullshit on my birthday.
I promptly called him the next day and he knew nothing of it. Talking like it was all good. When I set that a$$ out, as my mama would say, you could have sold him for a nickel. He was SPEECHLESS. For the first time, in a long time.
I was hurt. I thought we were better than that. Him trying to play me like a random chick was not hot. If he's been a random guy I'd just met, I would have blown it off. So not major. But it was him and I held him to a higher standard. Silly me. He owned up to it. Apologized for days on end. I told him I was not pleased and extremely disappointed. And I thought he was different. Woo woo woo.
A few weeks later, he called again with another apology and explanations about the girlfriend. Whatev. I forgave, but I didn't forget. We're still friends, but we are not back on the level that we'd been, even before we tried to take there. The conversation is wack as ever and I guess, deep down, I'm still kinda upset about it. I do, though, consider that a blessing in disguise.
These are the days of my life.