Monday, November 9, 2015


Saturday morning I woke up to a text that had arrived at 1 AM from a number that wasn't in my contacts, but looked vaguely familiar. It said simply, "Hi, H. How are you?" I suspected I knew who it was. When The Boyfriend was in the shower I ran the number on Facebook. Just as I thought, it was none other than GAM, the man I had a horrid falling out with back in June. Five months later he is drunk texting me in the middle of the night to check in. Interesting.

For the record I did not answer it, nor will I. But my ego is definitely tickled pink that the person I considered "checking in" with a thousand times after our "break up" was obviously thinking the same thing and wanting to see me again, even if just for a drunken booty call. 

As a protective measure, I suppose, I always assume the people who broke my heart immediately forget about me and never give me a second thought. But time and again this has proven to not be true - case in point, the guy who broke my heart in high school and then looked me up 20 years later on Facebook to apologize. I'm amazed, and heartened, that people hang onto these memories and want a resolution and/or reconnection as much as I do.

I'd love to hash it out with GAM and try to preserve some of my dignity after my lame behavior, but fuck it. It would be horribly disloyal to The Boyfriend, and it does feel kind of better to just leave him hanging, rejected. Also, the fact that he wrote that at 1AM on a Friday makes me not as flattered as if it had shown up twelve hours later.

I suspect The Boyfriend may have seen the text because later in the day he randomly asked if people from my past, people I'd dated online, ever tried to contact me again. I said it was funny he should ask that and told him about it, sensing keeping it from him would be disastrous if he already knew. Again, frigging technology!! 

After a very busy weekend including the dreaded photo shoot that went as well as could be expected (dirty sneaker prints on my dress, fly-away hair, children with noses running like fawcetts and a once again shy and miserable baby), I am delighted to spend a pleasant afternoon with my weekend TV shows on my DVR, a napping baby and older kid in school, and a nice strong cup of tea.

Most people can't wait for weekends; I can't wait for Mondays.

No comments:

Post a Comment