Ready Or Not, Here I Come

MONDAY
Spend most of the day texting and talking with Bear. His truck should be fixed by the end of the day and then he will be on his way. For some reason, I'm very nervous. I think it's because via phone we're already in this weird couple mode. How is that possible without even meeting? I have no flippin' idea but that's what it feels like. There is no talk of maybe when you get here if we like each other we will...it's when I get there we will do this and that and blah blah blah. What's more freaky? He has been to my home town. He knows people that know me. He has asked around about me. That's a lot of research to do if he's just looking for a booty call.

Q will not stop texting me! It's driving me totally bananas. All he does is sob about how much he misses me and how he's worried about me and all this crap. Seriously, dude, don't worry about me. You don't know me like that. I can bounce back from little shit like what you did better than a super bouncy ball. You have no idea. I don't let stuff like that phase me. Yes, I was pissed how you handled it and my pride was dinged but I told you from the get go, I won't get my heart twisted up again over a man. You can thank Von for that. He bellars that he can't stop thinking about me and that he was wrong for not calling and he's never been more sorry about anything in his life. Good. I hope you choke on your sorry. You weren't sorry when you were doing it. You will miss me. I could've told you that from the get-go. They always do. I tell him to leave me alone and that no amount of his apologies and whining is going to change anything.

MONDAY NIGHT
I've been playing phone tag with Bears all night and it's driving me crazy. I just want to talk to him and know that he's on his way and safe and that I will see him soon. I'm just dozing off when my phone rings. The ringer is generic so I know it isn't Bears. Dang it. I roll over and see that it's Dutch Boy. What in the sam hill? I answer and he sounds pretty rough. I ask him if he's drunk. He laughs and says no, he is just driving home from work. I ask how he's feeling and he tells me that he start his chemo once a week and it's kicking his ass but he still has his hair so that's a plus. I don't know if I mentioned it but he loves his hair. And he should, it's very soft and a great blonde color. Anyway, we end up talking for about half an hour. It's odd. Part of me wants to be really angry with him but for some reason I can't be. It's not just a pity thing because he's sick and dying. I think part of it is that he regrets what he did to me and misses my friendship and, well, I guess that's enough for me to be a little satisfied. As I say goodbye he says "It's really nice to talk to you." I wish him the best and he again promises to keep me posted.

TUESDAY
Q sends me another text. I ignore it. Obviously my text ass reaming on him was wasted thumb athritis. Nothing from Bear until 9 AM. Dude! C'mon! My quick temper sends a bit of a nasty text to him at 8 AM. When he calls at 9 it is a number I don't know. He says he lost his phone last night getting gas a few states over. Dang, man, hold onto your shit when you are traveling cross country. He says he will be in town by the time I get off work and he can't wait to see me. Little does he know that I have a change of clothes in the car and an overnight bag, just in case we really hit it off. We better.

I'm driving down the freeway and I pass a truck from where MNS works at. I didn't hear from him at all yesterday but I'm not more than 20 seconds past that truck and my phone starts blowing up with texts from him. It totally freaks me out. How does he do that? He asks about my weekend and tells me how much he misses me and can't wait to see me and asks if he can come over tomorrow morning. I tell him no. This catches him offguard. I'm hoping I'm staying with Bears tonight. I tell him it's because I know he won't come over the morning after bowling. He never does. I play innocent and tell him we should shoot for Thursday morning instead. He's all over it like a fly on shit and suggests maybe we could do both mornings. Sure, babe, whatever you say. See you at my house...when hell freezes over. We text back and forth for almost two hours and I dare not repeat any of the messages that were exchanged, for fear it would make Hef himself blush.

It's 4:40 and Bear has not called yet. What the F is up with that? I'm done at 5. I have no way to contact him. I have cleared my entire night (even though it's my do not leave the house night) to see him and if he doesn't love me down after all we've been through the last how many days, I will be past irrate. My hair is done up, I have the nobody-can-deny black boots in the car and the lacey boob-a-licious shirt in the bag next to the boots. Nothing pisses me off more than a good hair going unappreciated. He is supposed to be messing it up for me later. I want some serious bed head!! 18 minutes and counting...I think I'm going to harf...