You hate me, don’t you?

I know it’s been forever since I’ve written and I apologize for that. To be honest, I got the stomach plague and have been flat on my ass for a few days. But really, there’s no good excuse. I’m plain old lazy.

So…as some of you may remember Asheville was scheduled to come on up to New York one week after I was in Asheville. I was thrilled. I couldn’t wait for him to meet all my friends and see some of our old friends from our trip. Oh, and sex wouldn’t be too shabby either. So Friday night I get a text message from him that “shit went down in the schools and I’m going to miss my flight. I’ll call you later to tell you about it.” So I call him and he says that there was an emergency at a school and he had to go talk to some kid. He’s going to try to get a flight out later or in the morning. So I told him to give me a call and let me know what the deal is. He never called.

I wake up in the morning and I call him, no answer. Then I make plans to have lunch with my best friend. He calls while I’m on the phone with her and leaves a message “Hey, What’s up? Just calling to say hi.” What the fuck? So I call him back.
“Where are you?”
“North Carolina. I missed my flight this morning. I had a follow up meeting this morning and I missed my flight.”
“Oh bummer. When’s the next flight?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m going to come.”
“Oh that sucks…blah blah blah…well, I miss you”
defensively, “don’t do that!”
“What? Jesus, I just wanted to tell you…nevermind. I’m going to have lunch with Rachel.” I hang up the phone and go to have lunch with Rachel.

It’s while I’m out with her that I start to feel a bit sick. My stomach starts killing me. Maybe I’m just hungry. We eat, we shop, we walk through the ever so lame Gates in central park and I realize that I’m just feeling like shit. So I go home. I get into my Pjs and crawl onto the couch. I call Asheville.
“Hey (in my most pathetic sounding voice) I’m sick.”
“Oh no, you okay?”
“No I feel like shit. Can you just distract me for a bit, just talk to me? What are you doing?”
“Stuff, walking around, taking pictures…uhhhhh….(silence)…yeah not much going on here.”
After several moments of silence
“Okay Asheville, I’m gonna let you go.”
“Okay talk to you later bye” The boy could not have hung up any faster if he tried. It is at this moment that if he and I were ever really going out that we aren’t or shouldn’t be anymore. I proceed to feel the sickest I have ever felt in my life. I will spare you the details.

Fast forward to Monday, February 14th…yes people that is Valentine’s day. What a crappy ass holiday especially when you’re a) sick and b) in the process of attempting to forget about love’s existence. In case you’re wondering Asheville did call. I sent him straight to voice mail. He said “Hey!!! Wanted to call and wish you a Happy Valentine’s day soooooo Happy Valentine’s day!” Oh boy do I feel special. Please, say no more or I shall fall hopelessly in love with your words. Yuck! I also got an ecard with equally lame sentiment. The worst part is, he didn’t even ask if I was feeling better, which I was not.

Fast forward to Friday. He emails me. The subject, a ever so charming “Howdy Stranger” let me know that he knows I’m ignoring him.

Friday night I bit the bullet and called him back. He picked up and seemed happy to hear from me. I was in Penn Station so it was hard to hear on both ends so our conversation was short. The one thing I did pick up was when he said “You hate me, don’t you?” What I said to him in response was “I hate the fact that you can’t be what I want you to be. That’s what I hate more than you the person.”

I think this is the truth. I adore him. I think he’s cute and funny and smart. He was wonderful to me on my birthday. But I hate the way he isn’t there for me. I hate the way that he can’t be the boyfriend I need/want him to be.

Fast forward to today. I realize that I do kinda hate him a bit. I hate the way he manipulates me. He wants me to love him but doesn’t want to have to love me back. He’ll do it when it’s convenient for him. I do refuse to take no responsibility for this. I totally built this fantasy in my head of how good of a boyfriend Asheville can be. I did what so many women do. They project an idea of a boyfriend on someone until their true colors break through. Then we blame them for simply being themselves instead of the fantasy boy that I want him to be.

So where the hell does this lead me? What the fuck do I do now? I have an outstanding phone call with him that I’m going to have to have some day? He’s going to want to know why I’m dropping off the face of the earth? And where do I put all this energy now that I’m not trying to deconstruct our “relationship” all the time? I think I’m going to re-take up Yoga.