I don't even know what to say anymore. I'm trying to be strong, and for a little while I was winning the battle of the sexes...until I discovered I was never actually enlisted.
Things with Darcy were tenuously hopeful after he initially dropped off the face of the globe following our first date. He'd get in touch with me on his own accord, we'd chat, flirt and avoid making any plans. At least a pattern was established.
This past Saturday morning was more of the same. Finally he asked me when I was going to invite him over and I told him I had no plans that night if he wanted to get together. What follows is the actual transcript of our conversation:
Bambi: i've got nothing going on tonight - maybe we could get together
(Notice how I make it sound as if this may be only as good an option as say, my laundry...or watching yet another episode of America's Most Wanted to see if I know anybody profiled? Smooth hey?)
Darcy: That sounds really good. maybe get some eats??movie??something fun??
(Notice the overuse of question marks. I'm not saying it means anything - it's just annoying.)
Bambi: sure - i'm up for whatever
(Notice how cool and laid back I was trying to come across? I was actually dancing around my living room in a very not cool way. There was no music playing.)
Darcy: What's your number? I'll give you a call we'll figure out what we're doing...
(Notice the beginnings of the oral contract we are about to negotiate? This will be important later.)
Bambi: 555-BMBI
(Notice that's not actually my number - this is the only part that isn't true.)
Darcy: Cool. What time should I phone? What time will you be home?
(Notice I thought this was really considerate of him to ask and it made me trust in him completely. If he was going to be one of those f*ckwits who says they'll call and then don't then surely why would he go through the trouble of asking when I'd be home? I mean...surely?)
Bambi: about 3-ish. anytime after that should be good.
Darcy: K - I'll call you then.
Bambi: great - talk soon.
I'm sorry to have to fill this post with a transcript, but I need some sort of validation that I'm not actually crazy because...
The f*ckwit didn't call.
And whenever this happens, I don't care who you are -- you're waiting. I will fully admit to waiting. I took the phone into the bathroom with me when I went pee, just in case it rang. That's right. I brought it with me. That's how intently I was waiting.
By Saturday evening I had accepted he wasn't going to call and I marked the occasion by going out and sharing three bottles of wine with a friend only to end up dancing atop a speaker at the end of the night. And yes, I am 31 years old. And single. Hard to believe isn't it?
I waited to hear on Sunday whether Darcy had succumbed to a particularly fast-moving form of flesh-eating disease, or been swallowed up by a particularly fast-moving crevasse at one of his construction sites. Basically, I waited to hear if he was dead - because that could be acceptable.
Monday I prepared to write him off. I sent him the following email:
Darcy -
Thanks for not calling – if you had I wouldn’t have ended up toasting the city lights with champagne and a bunch of people I hadn’t seen in a while on Saturday – so that turned out relatively awesome. At the same time...not calling was rude and disrespectful. So rude, I'm not even sure flowers, 20 pairs of new shoes, or a weekend at the Wickaninnish Inn would make up for it.
Bambi
I was happy having the last word. The last word felt really good. And if he changed his mind maybe I'd get a weekend at the Wickaninnish. It was truly a win-win.
Tuesday I heard nothing from Darcy, and I patted myself on the back for being a witty woman scorned at least. Darcy had not spoken - it was done.
And then came 20 minutes ago. I'm sitting here, at my desk, pretending to be working. Darcy comes online and says this:
"I am so, so sorry I didn't call you Saturday Bambi. I have no excuse."
My mouth falls open and I debate whether to answer. Yeah right. As if I'll give up the last word now.
"I'm glad you're not bothering with an excuse. I wouldn't have bought an alien abduction story."
I expect this to be the end of the conversation, and I'm happy with it but oh no -- Darcy also likes to have the last word.
"I'm just sorry I turned out to be so ignorant."
Ignoring the obvious catty answers, I went with a compromise.
"That makes two of us then. But thanks for the apology."
"You're welcome."
Sneaky bastard. I couldn't let him sneak it in there like that.
"Take care of yourself then Darcy. You're an interesting guy."
Holy shit! I actually gave him the kiss of death -- take care of yourself! I told him to fuck off! Oh my God that felt good! Oh my God what did I just do??
"You're an interesting girl too. I've just been so swamped. I've been so busy. I'll say hi soon."
Um. Did I not just tell him to go away?? Did I not just say kiss-off?? What is he doing?? Why am I using extra question marks now??
"Keep in touch. I know what it's like when things get busy."
Why am I telling him to keep in touch? Do I seriously not know any better?
Apparently not.
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