Okay, I'm a pathetic weenie

So, the "Crap Weekend" post revealed my not-so-pretty obsessively panicky side. Again. I could delete it, but that would be dishonest.... I'm a ball of insecurities that I manage to conceal to the world at large, to appear as a kick-ass college admin, so that I can spill it all over the floor and walls of my blog, for all of my diary pals to tiptoe through.

I sent that one pathetic text when New Fella was leaving town. I sent another yesterday, when he was probably on the road, telling him to be safe and that my home phone is working again. See, my cell has been crapping out only when I'm at home, and my home phone broke. But that's another rant (moral of the story: Sprint SUCKS).

He's said he'd call Sunday night, when they got back. I think he forgot that Game 3 of the NLCS was on. The man doesn't talk during a Broncos game or a Rockies game (which I can totally understand). So, the game is over about 10:00, but he usually crashes on a work night by 9:30. Add to that the fact that he's bad about calling in the first place. Not a pretty picture for the Blogget-girl, is it?

As I write that, it all looks really reasonable as to why he didn't call. So, I was hoping for another early-morning call, like last week. No. My phone was silent. Except for Old BF, who still calls multiple times a day (yet another story).

I'm at work, trying to concentrate on this presentation I have to give in Utah in November. You know my obsessive nature by now. Can you imagine the scenarios running through me head? I'm thinking of all the things I'll miss about him and that will remind me of him once he's dumped me. If I ever talk to him again. Maybe he'll do like the last one and start ignoring me. I don't deal well with being ignored. How will I contain that? What mental gymnastics do I need to do so that this pain isn't so bad? I hate being someone guys can so easily forget about. Why is GOD doing this to me again??

It's a spiraling train to Hell, I tell ya.

Just then, my phone goes off. It's the lightsaber sound, which means a text. Has to be my son, since he's text-addicted and messages me all the time. I know he has homework he ignored, so what can it be now?

I brace myself and flip open the phone, to see the "missed" list.

The name staring back at me is New Fella's.

He texted me. He actually texted me. You see, I recently had a conversation with his daughter in which we surmised he didn't know how to use texting. He read texts, but called to answer them. One weekend with his 15-year-old son, and he texts me.

"Hey, thanks 4 the notes. trip was good but hectic. talk 2 you 2 night."

I feel much better now.