No, I don't have any salacious details for you all about last night's "totally not a date." Because, in fact, there was, most totally, not a date. He cancelled, saying that he was too tired from work.
And by cancelled, I mean that I called him an hour and a half after he was supposed to call me, and he said that he was still feeling tired after work.
Ugh. He totally doesn't like me.
He's so adorable. He looks like Jeremy East, at least from the neck up. I haven't seen below my guys neckline, so I can only assume that he looks as yummy in his all together.
Did I really just refer to this guy as "my guy?" Fucking A.
You know, I was really hoping this would be different. Light, casual, fun. No strings, just some good times, maybe a date for my birthday. After what can be deemed only a disastrous relationship this spring and a summer with my father in and out of the hospital, a few weeks of flirting, casual dating, and the occasional make-out session really would have hit the spot.
Especially since my birthday's been postponed. My dad's back in the hospital, with a case of gastro-neuropathy (or something like that) and they don't expect him out for a while. Somehow it just feels wrong to celebrate a birthday (even a milestone 21st) on Saturday when your father is in the hospital, unable to walk or eat solid foods. (Well, he was able to eat a little bit today, but you get the idea.)
My parents have promised to make it up to me for Christmas, or maybe my half-birthday. Even though insurance is taking care of everything, there are still enough unexpected expenses to pull the pursestrings taut. No promised laptop for school this year. Couple that with my complete lack of friends at home for the summer, and it looks like I'll be spending my 21st birthday at an awkward dinner with my grandma then futzing around gay.com, marvelling at all the casual sex, date connections and hookups that everyone else gets to have.
He is supposed to call me again tomorrow after he gets off of work. I'm not holding my breath.
