He wanted to see me again (yippee!).
Then...he worked a double-shift.
He went to sleep at 7am. Woke up and worked from 3pm -12am. And still
had ambitions of trying to see me.
I was jones-ing badly. I wanted him. His smooth skin, his kisses, his
soft bed. I wanted it. I raced home. I bathed.
12 am. No call. No text.
1 am. No call. No text.
I call at 1:30am. Pissed and horny.
I finally doze off but wake up occasionally to check my phone.
He calls me at 8:30am. Apologizing profusely.
I pout. I accept. I forget it (hmmm...) with the resolve to understand
he's tired. He worked his ass off and to have more self-respect...the
chocolate addiciton was SERIOUS.
We made plans for that night.
I went out to have a few cocktails with Gi and LP and Gi's dude. We'll
call him, ATL.
I was done after 2 drinks (yes...that is my M.O) I was not wobbly or
puke-y but giggly and that's a sure sign.
I rushed home, as much as rushing looks like in that state. I showered
12 am came...no call.
12:30 am .... shit!
I started cussing him out in my head.