2:15 AM |
My almost-real imaginary boyfriend has sucked my heart out of my chest. After months of texting (lots), sexting (some), and talking (hardly any), we finally meet, for all intents and purposes, for the first time.
I can hardly remember what he looks like. He referred to himself as tall one time, so I guess he is. I asked him by text what color his eyes are. Inexplicably, he avoided the subject. Blue or green,I hypothesized. Later he would text me that they are mostly blue. I know he is fair, a redhead I think. He wears white.
I told him that I would be in Florida for one day only, on a Wednesday, to cancel his plans. The Friday before, he called me (unusual) and said that he had an emergency board meeting that was totally out of his control. He asked me what time I was leaving. 7:25, I said. In the evening on Thursday.
I didn't hear from him after that until he texted Wednesday night that he would be in around eight. I waited. It will be eleven. I waited, then I showered. I shaved my legs again and rubbed grapefruit lotion all over my body. I waited. This is NOT okay, I texted. He called.
Family drama, to which I was somewhat privy. I felt an urgency in his voice, and I believed that he really wanted to get together. Instead, I wrapped my beautiful lingerie back in its hot pink tissue paper and cried. He is still an imaginary boyfriend, perhaps never to be real.
I can hardly remember what he looks like. He referred to himself as tall one time, so I guess he is. I asked him by text what color his eyes are. Inexplicably, he avoided the subject. Blue or green,I hypothesized. Later he would text me that they are mostly blue. I know he is fair, a redhead I think. He wears white.
I told him that I would be in Florida for one day only, on a Wednesday, to cancel his plans. The Friday before, he called me (unusual) and said that he had an emergency board meeting that was totally out of his control. He asked me what time I was leaving. 7:25, I said. In the evening on Thursday.
I didn't hear from him after that until he texted Wednesday night that he would be in around eight. I waited. It will be eleven. I waited, then I showered. I shaved my legs again and rubbed grapefruit lotion all over my body. I waited. This is NOT okay, I texted. He called.
Family drama, to which I was somewhat privy. I felt an urgency in his voice, and I believed that he really wanted to get together. Instead, I wrapped my beautiful lingerie back in its hot pink tissue paper and cried. He is still an imaginary boyfriend, perhaps never to be real.