Or, In Which I Over Analyze Text Messages and Get Rid of the Guy for Good
Four whole days after my meltdown, I was beginning to conclude that I would never hear from him again. That ultimately, he knew what was up, knew there was no coming back from it, and that he would just fade off into obscurity. I was perfectly content with this. The more days that went by without a word, the more sure I was that we were both on the same page. And then on Thursday, I got a text.
Did ur phone break?
Did my phone break? The last time I saw him he took my money and I left his house in tears. Not only did he not apologize, he didn't even check to see that I made it home okay. Not a word for four whole days, and now his opening move was passive aggression. Awesome.
Did yours? I replied.
Haha, no, he said. What are you doing today?
Oh my god, he just didn't get it, did he? For some reason he thought things were still hunky dory, and we could just go on like normal. I quickly disabused him of this notion.
Look, I'm pretty much over this whole thing, I replied. You're not what I'm looking for. And I'm not what you're looking for either. I hope you find it.
Boo, he replied.
That was it. Boo. Boo? So much for resolution, so much for closure. That was it, it looked like, that was all I would get. A little boy pouting. I thought that was the end of it, and then about a half an hour later, he sent another text.
Do you want to hang out tonight?
Do I want to--what? Really? No, actually. I don't. And that's exactly what I told him.
Then, finally, he sent this:
Well, hey. I was sorry about being an asshole the other night. I wasn't myself. Cheers, Rachel.
Hmm. Interesting that it took me saying I never wanted to see him again to elicit something even resembling an apology from him. And what was that, anyway; "I was sorry?" Is he not anymore? What's wrong with a simple "I'm sorry," present tense? And why did it take so long for him to say it? I was also curious as to who he thought he was being, if not himself, but I was long past the point of arguing minutiae. Any response on my part, I knew, would only encourage him. It seemed as good a stopping place as any, and so that's where I left it. It's done.
And so now we return to our regularly scheduled programming, in which I continue to not have to cook for anyone, clean for anyone, or defend my Netflix viewing choices to anyone but myself. I have to say, it feels pretty good. And for the moment, at least, I wouldn't have it any other way.