So, “date 4” with the Writer is on the books and we are not going to see each other until the next week.
He has a very high profile thing he’s doing the next night. To which he did not invite me. Which makes sense, but completely bums me out.
I compensate by accepting a first date with someone who looks interesting. The Writer and I end up one block apart on my side of town, but our paths do not cross. Which is good. I get a little tipsy and end up making out with my date and setting a date for the weekend (Sunday, as I had plans already for Friday with the lawyer and Saturday with my friends).
I have a high profile thing I am doing on Thursday and after I end up meeting my friend the corporate executive for a drink. Actually, I meet him for a quick bite, he’s drinking. He gets drunker and a bit more belligerent, which reminds me why we are not dating. I tell him what happened to LP. I don’t tell him that GT and I split or my new much more active dating life.
On Friday, which is the day on which I usually talk to the Writer on the phone, we don’t. He’s slammed with work and he’s going out of town for the holiday and whatever. I text him while I am drinking wine with my girlfriend RA. We exchange a few texts and confirm we will be seeing each other next week.
I have a date scheduled with the lawyer, but he’s being an asshole and not confirming a time, despite my multiple requests that he do so.
A little before 730, I decide that I am bored and lonely and I want to be sure that I am visibly out, so I take myself to a wine tasting some three blocks from our house. It was amazing, though I was the only person not there on a date. It was also free, which was perfect. I had a little money (precious little) because my cousin decided to pay me to do some work, so I felt much more comfortable being there in case something was great and I had to have it. Instead, I end up in this great conversation with the wine rep, which then leads me into a conversation with the ceo of the company the next day and that’s the sort of thing that makes me love my life.
Really, I am exceptionally social . . . obviously . . . and getting into a great conversation about wine is the type of thing that makes me very, very happy. I head to a nearby let’s call it a restaurant, but it’s way cooler and more random than that. The lawyer has been texting me, and I tell him he is welcome to meet me, but he is still being sort of a dick about confirming anything, so I decide to walk back to the house. Before I do, I shoot him another text.
Me: Are you interested in meeting me out or not? 8:12 PM
And that’s sort of my point now. Here was a man — much like men I have dated in the past, thinking that he’s entitled to conflate exasperating and charming and that I will fall into line and be happy just because he’s taking me out to a fabulous restaurant and dropping a lot of money. What. Ever.
I don’t care.
And I am not tolerating bullshit.
If we have dinner plans, then MAKE A PLAN. If you want to see me, make some effort. I am too busy and — frankly — too popular to wait around for you.
An interesting side note to my relationship with the Writer is that he — through admiration and emotional support — has enabled me to raise my game. Again, it’s likely all part and parcel of the changes I have been undergoing, but I don’t want to diminish his impact either.
From the store-cum-restaurant I adore where I was texting the lawyer, I also texted the Writer. Because they were playing the same semi-obscure song by the band the Writer and I had been discussing two weeks earlier prior to my first date with the lawyer, which was then in the restaurant.
The Writer texts me back hours later, after midnight when I was already in bed.
He is really just checking in to say goodnight, which was awesome, and then he texted me again 30 minutes later to ask if I had been thinking about him.