… everything you own in the box to the left.
I’ll make it short (not sweet) since I know the internet doesn’t sleep if Mel’s love life is not unleashed (right). PhillySteak blew me off when I said I wanted to come to visit. Fine, I dealt with it. Chatted with him for like two hours on the phone one night. His phone died and he never called me back. (But the celly felt necessary to dial by accident three times with the faint echoes of background noise).
I haven’t heard from him since — not even in Columbus two weekends ago where we were supposed to (finally) see each other again. You know, the “one-year-later-let’s-see-where-this-could-go” meeting. (Apparently, now, in the shitter).
And the nerve — the NERVE (!!) — he calls with no message tonight, almost a month later. He already didn’t make it past my cell phone cleansing ritual a couple weeks ago. I just recognized the area code.
But I had one night when he told me he loved me in person and it was wonderful.
… I can have another you in a minute.
OOOOHHHHÂ UPDATE!! Mother fucker called me the very next day and this time left a voicemail… acting as if time and space had not existed and we shared a bed bread the previous night. This gets a serious “WTF?” in all that is holy.
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