Monday, August 1, 2011
Chapter 36: Welcome Home to Me
"Timon" called me everyday while I was in Chicago. We enjoyed some late night talks after everyone else had gone to bed, and I was truly looking forward to seeing him again. Maybe all those other "up in the air" guys wouldn't really matter? I'll admit, I started allowing myself to entertain the idea that, once both of our traveling schedules died down, "Timon" and I might be able to start something of substance. But, at this point, it wouldn't be until after next weekend before I could find out.
My last day up there, though, it occurred to me that I didn't have a ride home. I knew I could take the train up to Doraville, and it would be fairly easy for anyone to pick me up and take me home. Mom was still in Pennsylvania, and was actually flying home the same day I was, but her flight didn't arrive until later in the evening, and her boyfriend was picking her up. I couldn't very well ask him to pick me up, just to have to turn around and pick mom up. I had a plenty of friends, and I could ask any one of them. But why? ;) I had boys galore to choose from!
"Timon" was traveling, so he was out. I called "Aladdin", but he had plans and was unable to break free. I didn't WANT to call "Basil," at all. He had sent me an email while I was there, with some non-sensical email about being freaked out. Whatever. Good riddens, buddy. "Kawena" was also unavailable, with apologies, and the conversation turned into a "not really feeling the chemistry" talk. Geez! I wasn't asking for marriage, I just needed a f--king ride! I wasn't so sure I wanted to call "Slim." I was feeling uneasy about what had happened and I wasn't so sure that was a connection I was interested in maintaining.
By the time I was sitting at the airport, waiting on my flight, I started to feel uneasy. How was it possible that, out of all these dates I'd had, not one single guy was willing to give me a stupid ride home from the train station? There was an episode of "Sex and the City" where Samantha (definitely the character I'd been identifying with as of late) had just moved into a new place, and she'd contracted the flu. She hadn't hung her curtains yet, and was too sick to do so, but couldn't rest during the day because of all the daylight pouring through her windows. She went through her little black book and called all the men she slept with to come to her aid, and not one of them came through for her. In the end, her best friend's, Carrie's, boyfriend, came over and hung her curtains for her. When Carrie arrived with chicken soup, Samantha was reduced to tears, realizing that none of it meant anything if you didn't have a man in your life that you could depend on. This episode flashed through my head as I scrolled through countless numbers in my phone, in a desperate attempt to get a lousy 10 miles from the train station to my house.
My flight was delayed. I broke down and called "Slim." Since I didn't really know what time my flight would actually arrive in Atlanta, he said to call him when I landed and he'd "see" if he could make it. I was NOT impressed. So I called my next-door neighbor, who conveniently happens to be one of my best friends, and she said that she would come and get me. About damn time.
Well, between the 2 1/2 hours my flight was delayed, and the 1 1/2 hours we ended up sitting on the tarmac, awaiting takeoff approval, I ended up landing in Atlanta about 20 minutes before my mother did, so I just caught a ride home with her and her boyfriend.
I think it's time to take some emotional inventory, and possibly do some house-cleaning, don't you think?
My last day up there, though, it occurred to me that I didn't have a ride home. I knew I could take the train up to Doraville, and it would be fairly easy for anyone to pick me up and take me home. Mom was still in Pennsylvania, and was actually flying home the same day I was, but her flight didn't arrive until later in the evening, and her boyfriend was picking her up. I couldn't very well ask him to pick me up, just to have to turn around and pick mom up. I had a plenty of friends, and I could ask any one of them. But why? ;) I had boys galore to choose from!
"Timon" was traveling, so he was out. I called "Aladdin", but he had plans and was unable to break free. I didn't WANT to call "Basil," at all. He had sent me an email while I was there, with some non-sensical email about being freaked out. Whatever. Good riddens, buddy. "Kawena" was also unavailable, with apologies, and the conversation turned into a "not really feeling the chemistry" talk. Geez! I wasn't asking for marriage, I just needed a f--king ride! I wasn't so sure I wanted to call "Slim." I was feeling uneasy about what had happened and I wasn't so sure that was a connection I was interested in maintaining.
By the time I was sitting at the airport, waiting on my flight, I started to feel uneasy. How was it possible that, out of all these dates I'd had, not one single guy was willing to give me a stupid ride home from the train station? There was an episode of "Sex and the City" where Samantha (definitely the character I'd been identifying with as of late) had just moved into a new place, and she'd contracted the flu. She hadn't hung her curtains yet, and was too sick to do so, but couldn't rest during the day because of all the daylight pouring through her windows. She went through her little black book and called all the men she slept with to come to her aid, and not one of them came through for her. In the end, her best friend's, Carrie's, boyfriend, came over and hung her curtains for her. When Carrie arrived with chicken soup, Samantha was reduced to tears, realizing that none of it meant anything if you didn't have a man in your life that you could depend on. This episode flashed through my head as I scrolled through countless numbers in my phone, in a desperate attempt to get a lousy 10 miles from the train station to my house.
My flight was delayed. I broke down and called "Slim." Since I didn't really know what time my flight would actually arrive in Atlanta, he said to call him when I landed and he'd "see" if he could make it. I was NOT impressed. So I called my next-door neighbor, who conveniently happens to be one of my best friends, and she said that she would come and get me. About damn time.
Well, between the 2 1/2 hours my flight was delayed, and the 1 1/2 hours we ended up sitting on the tarmac, awaiting takeoff approval, I ended up landing in Atlanta about 20 minutes before my mother did, so I just caught a ride home with her and her boyfriend.
I think it's time to take some emotional inventory, and possibly do some house-cleaning, don't you think?
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