I'm going out of town in a couple of hours. I have my annual one-day meeting in Ann Arbor. Except for the flying part, I always enjoy this trip. I meant to be good and get to the office by 9:30 and do some work. Instead, my computer almost collapsed and I had to re-do all the backing up so I would feel comfortable taking it with me. I got to work really late and now there's a bomb scare across the street so I can't go get lunch. Bah.
And, I'm an idiot. I ran into a guy last night, a guy I dated last year. He asked me to go to the baseball game on Saturday and I said yes. In the course of our conversation he said a couple of things that didn't jibe with my memory. One, that we dated for two weeks. No, it was more like five, definitely in the safe-to-say-a-month territory. Two, that I'd recently sent him a text that said "friends." No, I sent him a text at the beginning of March that said, "It's ok. Just teasing, friend." We'd exchanged a couple of texts prior to that and in one I gave him a hard time about missing my birthday, which I didn't expect him to remember.
This morning, on my half-walk to work (I took the bus half-way and walked the rest), I checked the texts. I'd already checked our dating dates. And I started to compose an email message to him, in my head, giving him the correct information. I know I'm right--I have documentary evidence. All he has is a memory like Swiss cheese. Then, it hit me. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what he remembers, if I'm right and he's wrong. There is a reason he remembers what he remembers. That he wants to think it's ok with me to be friends (it's not), that he wants to minimize our relationship. Two weeks? That's nothing. That meant nothing. And he needs to believe that. Who I am to disturb his uneasy mind?
At some level, he remembers. Last night, we stood on the corner, talking, laughing, just like it hadn't been over a year since we'd met face-to-face. And he kept moving closer. If I'd been in a room, I would have been backed against the wall by the time I climbed on my bike and rode home. He remembers.
All the more reason I never should have agreed to go to the game with him. But I want to and I will. These days, I do what I want. What I want to do is to spend one, pleasant evening with this guy and then I want it to be over. And because that's what I want, that's what will happen.
Grateful for: forgetting.