I’ve made a mistake.
Not entirely sure what it was, or when it happened, but as I stand here rolling out cookie dough and glaring at my cell phone I realize I’ve clearly made a mistake.
When actually calling someone you don’t expect to talk to them all that often so if you leave a message and don’t get a response right away it’s no big deal.
Yesterday I checked my voice mail. One from my mother and one from the lovely Ms. K... Ms. K will call back when she can and we will eventually catch up with each other- no sweat. My mom will call at some ungodly hour of the morning because she knows she will reach me (she’ll blame waking me up on the two hours time difference). I also had a call from my boss (“To delete, press 7”) and I have a missed call from my little brother (he doesn’t leave messages- ever) and I’ll call him back when he gets back from his business trip.
If you are seeing someone, and don’t have a message from them for a few days- it’s no big deal.
On the other hand, you may not know things aren’t going well for days.
When I didn’t ever text message it was easier.
My current mistake becomes strikingly apparent because we haven’t been communicating via phone, but via text. So when his text messages went from a “Hi! How are you?” with frequent responses back and forth every day to a brief response 24-48hrs after I’ve sent a question, unlike an un-returned phone call, problems becomes apparent very quickly.
Yep, something definitely happened.
Deep down, I suspect it’s something I’ve done (More serious than that polyester mini-dress I bought at H&M- and then lost the receipt for- trust me when I say that was a huge floral print mistake), but I couldn’t tell you what it was.
I find myself starting to make excuses… maybe his phone isn’t… well I’m sure he’s busy working on… aliens..?
But that doesn’t last long and I fall back on my ol’ stand by of “Well he’s just not interested…”
I still have that nagging feeling that it was something I did.
I’m left to wonder what it was.
In a somewhat rash “band-aid ripping” move, I delete his number.
After all, it wasn’t as though either one of us was looking to jump into a relationship… we were just enjoying each other’s company… If he wants to hang out, he still has my number. (Ms. K is- as usual appalled by this move and begs me to write it down somewhere before I hit delete).
I hate text messages.
(But just in case I’m wrong there are ten digits on a slip of paper in my Joy of Cooking)
Not entirely sure what it was, or when it happened, but as I stand here rolling out cookie dough and glaring at my cell phone I realize I’ve clearly made a mistake.
When actually calling someone you don’t expect to talk to them all that often so if you leave a message and don’t get a response right away it’s no big deal.
Yesterday I checked my voice mail. One from my mother and one from the lovely Ms. K... Ms. K will call back when she can and we will eventually catch up with each other- no sweat. My mom will call at some ungodly hour of the morning because she knows she will reach me (she’ll blame waking me up on the two hours time difference). I also had a call from my boss (“To delete, press 7”) and I have a missed call from my little brother (he doesn’t leave messages- ever) and I’ll call him back when he gets back from his business trip.
If you are seeing someone, and don’t have a message from them for a few days- it’s no big deal.
On the other hand, you may not know things aren’t going well for days.
When I didn’t ever text message it was easier.
My current mistake becomes strikingly apparent because we haven’t been communicating via phone, but via text. So when his text messages went from a “Hi! How are you?” with frequent responses back and forth every day to a brief response 24-48hrs after I’ve sent a question, unlike an un-returned phone call, problems becomes apparent very quickly.
Yep, something definitely happened.
Deep down, I suspect it’s something I’ve done (More serious than that polyester mini-dress I bought at H&M- and then lost the receipt for- trust me when I say that was a huge floral print mistake), but I couldn’t tell you what it was.
I find myself starting to make excuses… maybe his phone isn’t… well I’m sure he’s busy working on… aliens..?
But that doesn’t last long and I fall back on my ol’ stand by of “Well he’s just not interested…”
I still have that nagging feeling that it was something I did.
I’m left to wonder what it was.
In a somewhat rash “band-aid ripping” move, I delete his number.
After all, it wasn’t as though either one of us was looking to jump into a relationship… we were just enjoying each other’s company… If he wants to hang out, he still has my number. (Ms. K is- as usual appalled by this move and begs me to write it down somewhere before I hit delete).
I hate text messages.
(But just in case I’m wrong there are ten digits on a slip of paper in my Joy of Cooking)
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