Off With His Head!

After not hearing from Mister Darcy for two days, he emailed me Friday morning to see how my week was going. I ignored the small talk and asked him to call me or let me know when he was online next because I needed to tell him something.

Not the smoothest message I’ve ever written, and I probably totally freaked the guy out. If a guy told me he had to tell me something, you better believe my mind would be racing with thoughts. He’s married. His real name is Lucifer. He has leprosy. He’s going to steal my identity.

Anyway, he came online a few minutes later, so I decided he’d chosen his mode of communication and therefore I could tell him via Gchat that the milk is most certainly not free in this pasture, and he should move on to less monogamous ones.

He was very polite and said he understood. He didn’t argue or try to convince me otherwise, which made things verrrry easy. So I was happy with the way things were ended. He did ask if he could swing by on Sunday to get his game, but said he’d meet me in the lobby. I was mildly disappointed that I was no longer the new owner of a Boggle game.

Sunday around 11 a.m. he called. After I answered and said hi, he said something but my phone cut out, so I had to be annoying and say, “What?!” and then he said, “How was your weekend with your parents?” at the volume you talk to your great aunt whose hearing aid keeps going out.

I told him about their visit, in 10 words or less, and then he asked if he could drop by in an hour before the Bears game. I got off the phone and wondered if I should at least put on some mascara. Nah. I decided to stay in my yoga pants and sweater. He was past tense.

So I strolled down an hour later when he buzzed, and I have to say he looked super cute. He was in this grey zip-up sweatshirt and dark jeans, and started smiling when he saw me get off the elevator. Why do the devilish ones have to be so cute?

There were a few other people in the lobby, which provided lots of noise and didn't make me feel awkward. Like if we met on a quiet street or something. I didn't feel like he was going to pull a Tiny T and lunge at me for a sloppy, emotionless goodbye.

I handed him the bag with his goods and a pamphlet from Planned Parenthood, patted him on the butt and reminded him to "wrap it up!"

Jk. I gave him his stuff and said, “Have fun!” followed by a mumbled goodbye and we went our separate ways. It was very fluid. And for as adorable as he looked, I didn’t doubt my decision for a second.

I pushed 12 on the elevator and the door opened. Onward and upward!