Only Took Two Years to Drop This Guy

I never learn.

Despite the tough front I might put out for the purpose of venting and (I hope) entertaining in Ye Olde Bloglandville, I really must either be the dumbest bitch in existence and/or too gullible for any kind of good... or I just have this undying belief in the good within us all. (HA!)

This Guy.

First off (and I can't believe I never went here), we were supposed to meet up (many) months ago for dinner. True to This Guy fashion, he got incredibly "lost" and was incredibly late. Like, Belle-consumed-a-bottle-of-

red-wine-at-a-leisurely-pace-while-waiting late. And then, after taking the last you're-so-pathetic-you-don't-even-realize-you've-been-stood-up look from the waiter that I could handle, I paid my tab and told This Guy not to bother when he rang for the 18th time to tell me he was almost there.

So, yeah, that part about me being stupid? That comes into play when I let him revive contact a few weeks ago. (Bygones, right? And what's the harm in a little friendly chatting? Uh huh...)

But the stupidity probably doesn't become really obvious until I reveal that I accepted an invitation from him to go see a movie last week. Whatever he might have considered the proposed adventure, I viewed it merely as a friendly outing. ('Cause, well, ewwwwww.)

Anyhow, before accepting the invite, I stressed the importance of him, yanno, showing up on time and all. And he gave his word (Scouts' honor and everything) that he would be there, come hell, high water, fire, brimstone, or upended Krispy Kreme trucks.

As of the night before, we hadn't firmed up plans for meeting, so I called. Voicemail. Next day by noon, still no contact. So I sent a text, waited a few hours, and called again. Again, straight to voicemail.

At this point, I was actually looking forward to having a suddenly free evening to handle those mundane duties I keep putting off in favor of, well, anything else.

About 30 minutes before I was to leave work for the day (and subsequently, hypothetically, meet up with This Guy), he called me from work.

This Guy: Hey, Belle, this is This Guy. What's up?
Belle: Hey, This Guy. I called to...
This Guy: Actually, I called you.
Belle: Well, actually, I've called you twice and texted you, so, as I was saying, I called to firm up plans for tonight. Where do you want to meet?

After he informed me that his phone was dead, we established a meeting time and place, and he promised, again, to be there with bells and whatnot.

So why, then, did I find myself baking in the sun for the better part of an hour (See? Told you I'm a dummy.) before deciding it was better that I leave before he showed, as I was fairly certain my gut reaction to his visage would be a swift, hard kick to his knee?

I managed to pull myself together enough to leave a non-threatening voicemail on his non-functional phone, and I headed for home.

The good news is I really didn't care. I mean, certainly, the wasted time did not go unnoticed, but my night was suddenly (happily) mine, and I couldn't wait to get home and do those undone things and just relax.

And that's exactly what I did. Knowing that I'd finally reached the end with this one.

The following morning, I received this email:

I know you are disgusted with me right now and rightfully so. I got onto NY Ave. and hit tons of traffic. By the time I got to {Redacted} it was 6:30 and I didn't see you anywhere, so I assume you gave up on me.

I just wanted to apologize. I know that after a point, explanations become excuses, but I still wanted to apologize for ruining your evening.

-- This Guy

Ruining my evening?? Ha! After I made it home, the evening couldn't have been better if I'd planned it myself. Obviously This Guy gives himself far more credit for having a real effect on me than he warrants.

(FYI: His message garnered no response from yours truly. Stick a fork in me, yo; I'm done.)