I’d forgotten all about this. Probably because most of my memories from this relationship are not happy ones. Sometimes it’s just better to let go of sadness.
Anyways, it was a few years ago. I’d met this man who I liked quite a bit. I didn’t think, from the start, that the relationship was going to “go” anywhere. There was just something inherently impermanent to it.
I had plans to go away for a long weekend a week into us seeing each other. My flight was on a Friday afternoon and I’d taken the day off so that I could sleep in and then have time to pack.
He knew that I was a chronic oversleeper. He’d started to call me in the mornings on his way to work to tease me about it(he had a reverse commute, going from the city out to one of the ‘burbs) and I was frequently just getting up when he called (his day started much earlier than mine).
That Friday he was working from home (which I didn’t know). A few minutes after I woke up there was a knock on my door. I was completely freaked out because I live in NYC and no one ever knocks on your apt door on Friday mornings in NYC. I asked who it was and the answer was, “it’s the police”. He tried to disguise his voice (he’s not American) but did a crappy NY accent.
I rushed to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair and laughed in the mirror (seriously, I’d just rolled out of bed – luckily I had already brushed my teeth and washed my face) and answered the door. I asked him what the hell he was doing there and he said he wanted to see what I looked like in the morning – at this point he hadn’t yet. We’d had sex, once, but he didn’t spend the night. I wasn’t ready for that with him yet.
Anyway, I let him in and let’s just say that his pushiness/oddness/bizarre desire to see me look like shit was well rewarded. I just barely made my flight.
Tags: nyc, relationship, sad, suburbs, work