Wax On Wax Off, Date's On Date's Off

Dates On.

Sunday was the first date with TheNickName.  Monday we text.  Chatter.  What have you.  I was still technically in school and working on two papers.  Children's Lit and Shakespeare.  I hate Shakespeare at this point.  But that's another matter entirely.  Tuesday we text.  Chatter.  He's not feeling great.  Possibly getting sick.  I'm exhausted from school.  It's whatever.  Wednesday.  He's sick.  No mention of cancelling Thursday.  We text.  We chatter.  I'm deep into paper writing mode.  But still.  I'm not fucking clueless.  I can sense it coming.  I mean.  People don't get better overnight.  I mean.  I still have the occasional residual coughing from a BRUTAL cough/cold/flu I had in September. Just Sayin'.

And here's the thing of the thing.  I'm the queen of expectations.  In that I expect people not to be retarded and spit it the fuck out, say it like it is, I don't have all day.  But I'm an optimist.  If I weren't I wouldn't keep letting those damn expectations get the best of me.  So even though I know I have a "cancel" coming my way.  I have this little hope.  A hope of a hope.  That I'm not going to be disappointed.  That this second date I'm hoping for is going to happen.

Date's Off.

But it doesn't.  Thursday morning rolls around.  And there is a text.  On my phone.  About how sick he is.  And blah blah blah.  And I know what you're thinking.  I'm sure he was super apologetic.  I'm sure he likes you.  Only I wasn't so sure.  Because there was no I'm so sorry.  It was mostly a boys pity party.


Detour.  I know boys are babies.  When they get sick.  I was in a 6 year relationship after all.  And I have married friends to tell me all about it.  We've all seen it.  We can attest to it.  Boys are the biggest pansies when they get sick.  And just a Dear Boys, for you boys...nobody likes a pans.  Just Sayin'.

Back on Track.  So I'm kind of upset (partly just at the situation [him being sick and date being cancelled] and partly at the fact that he knew he was sick...should've cancelled earlier).  But...I also get what it is to be sick.  And I fucking hate being sick.  So I get it.  Being sick sucks.  We barely know each other.  Not sweating it.

Okay I'm lying.  I'm not sweating it to him.  But I'll tell you guys the truth.  I was Major cranky pants.  Sergeant super irritaed.  Colonel "this sucks" hissy fits McGee.  Mostly I'm just pissed because while the lack of apology would've be fine on the one hand.  His text.  Conveys mostly a concern that he might be too sick  to go to his work Xmas party on the Friday night and a friend's Xmas party on the Saturday.  But it's whatever.  I realize we barely know each other.  And but of course Xmas parties come but once a year.  So basically I'm just telling you guys this so you understand how I was irrationally feeling though I am FULL ON aware of the irrationality of feeling those feelings in the first place.  So obvs. I keep the feelings ick to myself.  And to my friends lol.

***TMI ALERT***TMI ALERT***TMI ALERT***TMI ALERT***TMI ALERT***TMI ALERT***

****BOYS MAY WANT TO TURN AWAY****BOYS MAY WANT TO TURN AWAY****

So I have to tell you now.  That I was harsh PMSing.  And to be clear.  I'm not some moody teenager who doesn't know when they're acting ridiculous.  BUUUUTTT.  When it's almost my "Lady Time" (I don't care what you people say...it's my favorite way to allude to it and I'm keeping it!) I can become...to put it nicely...hysterical.  Now I'll be aware that I'm being hysterical.  And I'll know that at some point...say within a week.  I'll return to normal.  But that doesn't mean I can necessarily turn it off.  So in my defense.  In my irrational feelings defense.  I blame mother nature.  And that bitch who visits me every month.  And such is life.  You gotta accept the good with the bad.  But I just needed you guys to know.  I needed a preface.  I needed to explain why I felt so hysterical when we all know I'm an advocate of not being too intense in the beginning.  Being.  Breezy.  If you will.

Date's On.

So the weekend comes and goes.  He goes to the parties like a champ.  And oddly enough he seems to be feeling better.  Perhaps it was his optimism.  Perhaps he's one of those lucky people who if they can get enough rest are feeling tip top within a day or two.  I can barely understand this concept since I'm usually sick for weeks at a time.  But there ya go.  Who am I to question optimism and health right?  So through all this time we're texting and occasionally calling.  He suggests we hang out Sunday night.  But alas.  I have my first final exam of this session 830am Monday morning.  So that's a no go.  Monday night? and it's on.  Date's on.  We have plans for Monday night.

Monday morning I get up at the crack of dawn.  Who am I kidding.  I was up well before dawn.  In fact dawn had barely broken by the time I was parking at UBC.  When I get a text from him.  TheNickName.  Something super cute about wishing me good luck and about how I was going to kill it! and to call him when I'm done.


Which I did.  In both respects.  And that's when I heard it.  In his tone.  In his voice.  In his cough.  The cancel was coming.  He was sick again (or still) whatever.  So we were back to square one.  Sick.  Date cancelled.

Date's Off.