so predictable

It has now been two weeks since my smoochfest with The Plumber, a.k.a. Mr. Supreme Flakiness, and I've only heard from him twice (not that I'm counting). There was no mention of any further contact. As I suspected, He's Just Not That Into Me. Thankfully I'm okay with that, I realize that it is his loss and I'm better off not wasting time with a really flaky guy. Right on cue, The Writer, a.k.a. The Man Who Sent Me Into a Seventh Grade Tailspin, called me on Tuesday, two weeks to the day since I last emailed him (not that I'm counting). Very curious! His message to me: "I miss you and I would like to see you! I assume for the past couple of weeks you've been rocketing around the hill country on your bike...if you feel like calling me you should." Uhhhh, so if I haven't contacted you I must have a really good reason? Something that has kept me so busy that it has held me back from my nearly irrepressible and urgent desires to chase you down? It couldn't possibly mean I just didn't feel like giving you the time of day because you hit my last nerve with a comment you made during our Little Chat. God Forbid! Of course I'm having dinner with him tomorrow night, would you expect anything less?