Showing posts with label waiting by the phone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label waiting by the phone. Show all posts

Sunday, 3 April 2011

In which I do not go on a date

I decided what to wear to the BBQ. It took a week, but I eventually chose skinny jeans, a loose-fitting vest and sky high heels. I was pretty confident about it. It's a good look. I'm wearing it now in fact, as it is the day of the BBQ. I'm wearing it to watch Cold Feet in my bedroom.

The Brazilian didn't call. It was a promising start, with the texts, and the call, and some more texts during the week, but we never actually managed to arrange anything and I haven't heard from him all weekend. Maybe I'm just being naive, but I wouldn't be surprised if he just had a busy night at work last night and isn't even awake yet. Still, it's disappointing and more than a little embarrassing, given that I told half the people I know that I had a date today.

I hope this isn't what it's going to be like, dating. I'd like to actually attend a date at some point, rather than just spend my weekends wondering if my phone is broken. Of course, it is the 21st century, and I could just call him, but where's the pride in that? I'd almost definitely just end up feeling worse.

In the meantime, Former Love of my Life has been in touch, in a Facebook message to everyone he knows, asking us to his birthday party. He's going to an 80s club, something we'd been talking about for months before we split up. Obviously I'm not going to go. Obviously. But I do now get to be included on the many, many messages from all of our friends, who I no longer see as we have split up, planning a night out I originally suggested. Lovely. Why did he invite me? Surely he doesn't want me to go. Surely he knows I don't want to go. I loved him far too much to be friends. Last time I saw him I burst into tears in seconds.

I would worry about what it all means, but to be honest, as with The Brazilian, I suspect it means very little. I spend my whole life talking to my girlfriends about what men mean and in most cases they appear to be mainly forgetful, lazy or confused. In the meantime, women (or me at least) insist on overanalysing every single thing and we just make ourselves miserable. The game playing is exhausting, isn't it?