I wish! I’m wielding a machete and these guys still keep coming. I just want them to go away!!!
I’m sick so I’m going for the stream-of-consciousness approach. If this posting seems a little scattered, it’s because my brain cells are fried. Cooked. Well-done. Burnt to a crisp.
Here’s what’s happened. My beloved Brett pissed me off. He was supposed to come out and meet a bunch of my friends, but bailed at the last minute. Did he call? Of course not. He sent a fucking text message saying he didn’t feel well. I had already told the mother-fucker I really despised how he continued to text-message me instead of calling. And here he was…text-messaging me that he couldn’t come. I asked why he couldn’t simply call. His text response: “I’m sitting on my mom’s friend’s couch. I feel groggy and really shitty.”
I didn’t buy it. Not one word of it. Who did he think I was? Some ga-ga Britney Spears looking for love in all the wrong places? It was very suspicious. I immediately logged on to Match.com and guess what? THE MOTHER FUCKER WAS ONLINE! Well, I’ll be darned. I reached my boiling point and furiously texted back: “Brett, you are a liar. Good riddance.”
After momentarily patting my back for being so decisive and bringing down my prospective candidates to two, I started to fret. Uh-oh. What have I done. So I did what any girl would do when she’s having guy problems. I started pestering my guy friends. Well low and behold. They all had different opinions.
Male Friend Advice #1: “Oh no, Cathy, you did not. What? Why? What if he happened to leave his computer on? I do that all the time. I don’t always shut down my applications. Well, hold tight. There’s nothing you can do about it now. Do not call him. He’ll call you. If not, then he’s not worth it. And let me just tell you, when you find out he really was sick, you’re going to feel awful.”
Male Friend Advice #3: “You know, Cath. You did the right thing. Sitting on his mom’s friend’s couch with the flu? And he can’t pick up the phone and call? This guy is bad news. Stay away.”
There you have it. Three different opinions solicited. What did I do? Nothing. I pretended like he wasn’t in my life anymore. Then it came. The inevitable text message: “I ended up having strep throat.”
And like a 2 for 1 special. So did I.
I was in Minneapolis for work. On the second night, Brett’s text came through. I laughed and debated how I should respond. Soon, I started feeling feverish and ill. My throat was constricting. Next, I was on fire. Literally! My head was throbbing. I couldn’t open my mouth. Everything—pillows, sheets, blankets—was soaked in sweat. 30 hours straight in bed. I called on room service to bring me a plate of chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate. That’s all I ate over the course of 30 hours.
Because of the altitude on the flight back home, I can no longer hear out of my left ear.
I now weigh as much as I did when I graduated from high school. I look in the mirror and can’t believe that this is how I wanted to look all those years I struggled with my weight. I look like a skeleton.
I’m not happy. Because of the hearing deficiency, my balance is impeded and I feel completely off. Getting from one room to the next is a chore—and my place ain’t big! Mainly, I want my appetite to return. I know I wouldn’t feel this weak if I could get some food in me, but I can’t seem to stomach anything. Besides, I do not want to look like this. Skinny and unhealthy. Before I left Minneapolis, my team went to get lunch. My manager tried to entice me, “Catherine, chocolate chip cookies! Go grab one for yourself.” I shuffled over and just looked at them in disgust.
As for the other two guys, they’re still vying for my time. I thought Nick—selfish bastard—would surely drop off somehow. He’s always so busy, never really had enough time for me. The guy is finally calling more frequently. And super sweet Adam is always asking if I’m doing ok. He can’t wait to see me again. Super nice guy.
Gadzooks. One of these guys is going to have to drop sooner or later. I’m taking bets…