If you missed Part 1, catch up by reading it here: He Was a Writer (Part 1)
I texted him in July, long after we had had banter and then stopped texting. I texted him in July, and he responded almost immediately. I asked if he wanted to get a drink or coffee sometime. He said Sure I do! He used an exclamation mark. When will I stop believing the way men punctuate. He told me when he’d be free. I said great. And then when the time came, he never texted.
Which is fine, I guess. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in licking my pussy anymore. Maybe he was dead.
The thing is, I do this absolutely fucked up thing where I let men’s careers inform me about who they are. But a man is not his career. A man is almost never as interesting or wonderful as he career. He was a writer and I believed him to be far better than he was. That’s the thing about writers. We have wild imaginations.
And so while I wasn't interested in him sexually/romantically, I still wanted to be friends. More than anything in this world, I wanted a writer buddy. Somebody to have banter with, to talk about writing, to work on projects together. I can’t really explain it except to say that maybe I have some unaddressed sexism, fat phobia, and/or friendship issues that make me desperate to keep certain men in my life. So I did what I always do when I want to keep the door open just a crack, when I want tot give them the benefit of the doubt (that they unequivocally never deserve).
I texted, “So I guess Friday didn’t work out, but feel free to give me a shout sometime if you ever want to grab a coffee or something.”
He responded: “Sorry! I actually just forgot haha. I’m gone this weekend but next week,” which honestly seemed pretty bonkers to me the way a person would just admit they’d literally forgotten about you like that was an okay admission, like it wasn’t super fucked up. I mean, I wouldn’t even tell my mechanic I’d forgotten about them.
I didn’t respond. I don’t make plans with flakers. I don’t make plans with people who forget about me. My pristine vagine was drier than Arizona in August.
Speaking of August, that’s when I hear from him again. Out of the blue and a month later, he texts the exact and only thing that would cause me to respond:
Okay I took the week off work to write. Wanna help write?
To be continued…(and don’t worry, part 3 will be cumming sooner rather than later unlike me lol)