So...that's that. Because I am following my heart and not my head, I had to write him again and blather on for a few lines about being friends. But he's not hearing me at all at this point, and clearly just doesn't want to own anything about it. I hit send anyway.
I am disappointed. But glad he wrote. And glad I stuck up for myself, and glad I can see where I went wrong, too.
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SO, HERE is a funny, LONG story about what happens when you are all retarded because you are missing a man. Get comfortable.
Above is Lois with the new bowl I found at the thrift store that matches her old one (except in this picture). (Above the bowls are the two lovely plants I planted for the dating guy, which I now will have to give away to someone else so as not to be reminded of my masochism and his rejection.)
PART 1
You do an art project with your kids classes wherein they paint plant pots. You can't find acrylic paint in the art room, so you use tempera. It looks good, but will completely disintigrate on terra cotta unless you cover or seal it. Since you are in your car anyway and have an hour free before you have to pick up your dog at doggie daycare, you decide to go to Gethsemane, the awesome garden center in Andersonville, your old neighborhood, to ask their advice on a good product that won't kill the plants.
PART 2
You pull into their lot at 5:55pm. Your mind is on the dating guy so you feel sick and spacey. A man says "We're closing at 6pm." and you say "OK, I just have a quick question!" and you walk briskly through the luscious flowers and plants and arrive at the counter. Your friend calls on the phone, and you silence it so as not to be rude. You ask about sealers, and they can't help. They suggest the hardware store across the street, and you head out that way. You call your friend back and chat while browsing for about 20 minutes and purchasing the spray stuff that you hope will work.
When you cross the large busy street again, you notice the closed gate. You get closer, and see that no one is around, and that your car is the only one in there. You see the padlocks and chains locking every entrance and gate, and think of your laptop, purse, work bag, digital camera, and your dog's leash and collar, all locked up for the evening. It is 6:22pm. The dog daycare closes at 7:00pm, after which your dog will have to stay the night. With the guy-induced sadness, you know you need your dog's company, so, in an oddly calm panic, you start looking for a cab.
INTERMISSION:
Watch "Children of Men" (which is excellent!), pet your dog, and be sad and quiet at home all night because you are thankfully unable to obsess online. Eat some soup. Get the best sleep you have had in a week.
PART 3
The garden center opens at 9am, at which time you figure you can call them to find out the fate of your car. But lap swimming is from 8-9am, so you choose to do that, then walk to work to use a work computer to look up the phone number of the place, and call from there. The nice woman who answers at 9:30am says your car is still there, and they would never tow it. You silently bless her and tell her you will come and get it. You check your work voice mail, and set off with your keys, your phone, and a jacket. You miss every bus and end up walking all the way there, about 2-1/2 miles. (You do make one pitstop at the Salvation Army thrift store, and buy an old milk-glass bowl for your dog, a skirt, your millionth black sweater, and a black hoochie-mama dress for summer.)
PART 4
When you arrive, the garden center is busy and you even see two cute guys, which makes you feel like you might not have to worry about suicide after all. But as you get to the gate, you see many cars, but not yours. It is gone. After asking no less than six people, you find someone who helps you. He, a man with long hair and a harley shirt on, says that your car was towed, and seems apologetic about it. (You brace yourself to spend another $250. You feel numb and start to somehow apply guilt about the dating guy to this situation.) Long-hair calls guy #2, who seems much less apologetic, but who breaks the good news that he only had your car towed to somewhere else in the neighborhood. He points down the street and says it's across from a hospital you can see. You thank him and walk over there. You look up and down all the streets. It's hot. Your car is not anywhere. You keep walking. When you finally circle back to the garden center and find the guy again, you are sweating and it is 12:00pm. Another guy says go the opposite direction a few blocks, and you start walking. 20 minutes later, a blue van pulls up beside you as you are just on the verge of that hysterical, homeless-lady laughter - and it's guy #2, gesturing for you to get in, and he drives you to your car, which is sitting, unlocked but intact, like eight blocks away on a sidestreet you would never, in a million years, have found.
Then, you go to work.
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