I still don’t understand why my phone sits silent for days and I suddenly hear from several people at the same time. I spent a fair part of last night preparing for my first home visit with ArmyDude as the guest of honour. I was a wreck by the time I finished washing linen, making the bed, stocking up towels, finding scent-free soap for him (ah, the considerations of fucking married people), shopping and filling the fridge to prepare for dinner, agonising beforehand for hours about what I might make for dinner for someone I know so intimately but not well when it comes to the domestics and, of course, tackling the most dangerous job of scrubbing the computer’s insides of all traces of my other lives in case he wanted to check the shared account together.
He had an alibi that allowed him to also set up a drink with a woman who had expressed interest in us. Five hours before we were due to meet I received a couple of texts saying he was convinced his wife was acting suspiciously. I thought he was projecting his own nerves but I happily gave him the option of deciding to proceed or cancel because he is taking the greater risk.
For the next three hours he disappeared from phone contact, and I knew from experience that he was cancelling but didn’t know how to break the news. An hour beforehand I received a message saying he felt more comfortable cancelling. I didn’t mind: I’d already prepared mentally for a no-show, dinner was almost ready, vibrators were fully charged and the thought of a freshly-made bed was hardly the end of the world. He sent another half a dozen messages apologising and saying how bad he felt, which started tainting my accepting mood. He got the message when I sent a terse “No more apologies, please.” Go away!
At the same time, Pierce came back in a mix of optimistic pleading and anticipated rejection. He unfortunately was at the end of a cycle of meeting people mindlessly and I didn’t want the reminder or to try to start again. Whatever was causing me to lash out with the wrong people seems to have settled for the time being. I’m probably in the opposing mindset of wanting nothing more energetic and safe than lounging in the winter sunny window like a neutered cat, but that’s bound to change soon enough.
The woman I’ve been trying to make contact with also sent an e-mail citing great amounts of nervousness about meeting one-on-one. She suggested we meet at a swingers’ night as the surroundings would be less stressful for her than at a cafe. Really? I could easily get offended if I think about it too much.
To top off my night, a message saying hello and enquiring about my wellbeing landed in the phone from an unknown number. I asked who it might be. Low and behold, it was Mr New Year’s Eve from … let me count with two hands here … oh, six months ago. I asked coolly if he’d mistaken me for someone else because we were meeting last Christmas and he cancelled the same day and disappeared. He bravely (or stupidly) responded and claimed nerves but he’s back now and ready to meet. Again, really? That’s nice. I struggled to contain my sarcasm said it was a shame that people becoming paralysed by nerves sure seems to happen a lot. He didn’t come back. I’m a lot of things but six-month-old bargain barrel slops isn’t one of them.