Smothered
It was Sunday. I had just finished doing a volunteer wildfire cleanup at one of the houses that was lost a couple of weeks ago when San Diego was in flames. Mentally and emotionally drained when A called, I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat.
We are one (albeit a marathon of a) date in and already he’s calling me to “ask about my day.� Whoa whoa woah. Don’t get too comfortable there, Sparky. You can’t just take me out to dinner once and suddenly think I will start allocating ten minutes out of my day for you to ask me about it. As I was getting off the phone with him, he wanted to plan something for the following week… which honestly, according to my calendar, wasn’t so good for me.
He started giving me crap about “definitely wanting to see me� before he left for Thanksgiving upstate. Since when do you get to plan my week? Oh you want to see me. Great. Well what if I’m indifferent about seeing you?
Why don’t we take one day at a time, huh? Actually…why not three days at a time? Why not just withdraw all contact for at least three –or seven!—days at a time. While we’re at it, why not indefinitely? In other words, slow the hell down! And breathe—or at least let me breathe. The last thing I need let alone want is to be suffocated by some guy I just met.
I realize you’re just being nice. I’m not an idiot. But I just saw you last night for crying out loud. And it was for eight hours+. Not going to lie, feeling a little smothered.
November 30th, 2007 at 6:41 am
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