I have been very quiet with BV this week.
I checked in with him on Tuesday, I think. I called him and followed up with a text: “Hi, it’s the Planner. Just checking in.” He replied back on Wednesday: “Hi there. I’m hanging in there. Things could be better. But hanging in th” I replied back “Hi. That’s good to hear.”
And that’s it.
I knew I was going to drop off his present at his building, along with a note on my personal paper. But all week, I just never got around to it.
Tuesday, I skipped my usual hanging out two blocks from his building. Wednesday, I met up with JerkFace and W before going to PR’s show.
Last night, I went with RA to a cocktail party, where I stayed for all of 30 minutes before we adjourned to our Thursday spot.
I ended up getting black out drunk on Thursday at our favorite chic bar. On two drinks. It’s disturbing. I might have been drugged. No idea what happened and no memory of getting home. RA had me, as apparently, I threw up on the street in front of the hotel. I have no memory of anything. She had FM come home to help too.
I woke up this morning in just my panties in my own bed.
So, all day, I’ve been feeling off. Obviously. And also kicking ass with work. I had so much to do, I worked extremely efficiently fearful that at any moment I would be incapable of working more.
I wrapped up everything around 3 and I was checking social media when I saw the Chef mention a new menu item, which is something sort of strange that the Bon Vivant loves. (Like he asked me specifically to a restaurant that specializes in it on our first date despite the fact it was over a hundred degrees out . . . And asked me to take him to the same place on our reconnection night for lobster […]. We’ve still not been, though it’s his favorite thing.)
Anyway, I decide I should text BV something sort of sideways: “My favorite resto (…) now has […] on the menu. It’s no lobster […], I am sure.”
I have no idea why, it just felt like the right thing to do. My finger hovered over the send button for about 2 minutes and then whoosh … Gone.
I didn’t expect a response, but the one I got was hilarious.
Exactly a minute later, he called me.
Rather than say hello, he drawled: “what are you yammering on about?”
As you know me, you know I find this swoon-worthy.
It’s adorable. He sounds great, and happy.
I walked him through what I meant and reminded him we were supposed to go that night. When we talk about that night, we both agree it was fun — I say it was my most fun night ever, he says it’s among the most fun nights he’s ever had. Given his life, which is dedicated to pleasure, that’s saying something.
We have code for everything, which lets me know he’s sincere about it. This is happily living on in his memory as its happily living on in mine. We also laugh about all of the alternative plans we made.
He asks what I am doing (sitting on my sofa) and he tells me he is driving to get his hair trimmed. He fills in enough colorful detail that I am laughing uproariously.
He is an intensely charming rogue with two errands to accomplish: hair trim and mail a postcard to his nephew for a school project. Of course, he has decided he will make his stylist mail it for him. Of course.
I tease him, as a man with only two things to do, he can’t even be bothered to do them. That’s my Bon Vivant.
I tell him I have a present for him. He says that’s sweet but not necessary and I tell him it’s not a big deal. I tell him it’s a small token I picked up for him the night I saw him at the chic hotel bar. And it is: it’s an illustrated calendar of his favorite band, of which he has original art in his apartment.
I tell him I am going to tell him what it is and he begs me not to as I am telling him. Then he says, oh, you just told me. We laugh. He is moved. Genuinely. He says, thanks, hon, I know I’ll love it.
It is simply the thought that counts, but this is a man who takes care of everyone else and he loves that I cared
enough to get him something perfect I knew he’d love.
I joke with him about his day’s plan after his taxing afternoon (up at 3, hair appointment, drinking). I ask where he’ll be drinking later and he tells me he’ll call me when he’s done with his appointment and we’ll figure out tonight.
I already have plans, which I don’t tell him because I know I can do both and I am not convinced he will call me. I have a holiday potluck at RA’s house, and she says of course I can invite him if I’d like.
I don’t. (Not then, anyway.)
Instead, I glance at my call logs when I realize I should add him back to my phone.
And then I see it: he called me late Wednesday night. At 250 am. I had been out with PR and I never heard the phone ring, nor did I notice a missed call.
So, no wonder he called me after he got my text. He’d called me two days before and I’d not called him back.
How very strange.
I do, ultimately, invite him via text at about 840 when I tasted amazing food. I didn’t hear back. I didn’t really expect to.
Saturday . . .
He is charming, but completely undependable when it comes to time. He doesn’t operate on any given time and he has no responsibility. He drifts through life right now.
I can be disappointed, but I don’t take it personally. It’s not about me. It’s completely him. He’s just not connected to the same reality I inhabit.
I am leaving for vacation in 4 days. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know I have timing issues. He wouldn’t really get it, even if I did tell him. I mean, conceptually of course but it wouldn’t likely get him to do or not do anything.
I am tempted to call him to tell him to meet me for a drink tonight. But that seems silly, too.
I shouldn’t be conflicted about it, but I am. I am actually in a relationship with the Bon Vivant, despite my denials of it. And I should get over it.