Waiting game

Dear Un-fashionably Late,

Upon arriving promptly at the bar at 7 p.m. (a time we both agreed on), my phone lit up.  It was you, saying you would be 15 minutes late.  Annoyed, I took advantage of the situation and after ten minutes of schmoozing with the unattractive bartender, I snagged us a table outside.  I was hoping we could make fun of all the crazies that walked by.

As I sipped my glass of red, I decided to call my grandma, so as to avoid looking pathetic and lonely as couples strolled by me with their dogs and ice cream cones as they held hands and laughed and basically made me despise the fact that I wasn’t at home watching  Sixty Minutes with a boyfriend instead of waiting for your ass.

Thirty minutes and half a glass of wine later and you’re still a no-show.  What. The. Fuck.  Your excuse: “Construction.”  My reply: “Leave your place earlier, dumb ass.”  But I only said that in my mind because that would be a bit rude for a second date, wouldn’t it?!

The waitress is staring at me, as are the other patrons.  I text my friends, many of whom tell me to peace out.  One suggests ordering the most expensive item on the menu, then leaving.  I think that’s brass, but I’m not opposed to doing it.

I decide to give you until 8:00 to show yourself.  The waitress approaches me and says, “Where is he?”  We have a funny conversation and she agrees that I should order food, eat it, then when you arrive, excuse myself to the bathroom and leave.  Yes, after an hour of drinking alone, I have made a friend with a restaurant employee.  Perhaps I should date her.

At five til eight, you arrive and try to kiss me on the cheek, but I scoff and give you dirty look.  I am not happy.  You sense this and then have the balls to say, “If you would have left, I would have respected that.”  I hate you.  But now you’re here and I will order another glass of wine and try to have a nice time with you, mainly because you’re going to pay for everything and give me a ride home.  I hate walking at night.

As the date comes to an end, you whip out a hundred and I make sure you tip the waitress exceptionally well.  She gives me a wink as I leave and I roll my eyes.  She knows that this is most likely the last date I will have with you.  But you don’t.

You see, although you seem to be into me, I’m just not that into you.  Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not a priority for you or perhaps I find the fact that your cell phone is your BFF unattractive.  Whatever it is, I refuse to waste my time waiting for any man, even someone like you, who might have had potential. 

I hope you and your Nextel have a lovely life together.


Impatient and proud of it


~ by citygal on March 22, 2010.

5 Responses to “Waiting game”

  1. BRAVO!!!
    He doesn’t deserve you, or any woman, until he can put down the phone and make time to make you a priority. I say, to hell with him!

  2. you can’t see me but i am giving my computer screen a standing ovation right now.


  3. jeez! how many dates are you going on these days?! its like you want the free ice-cream at ben and jerries, but is it really worth your time standing in line for 4 hours?

    and per your other post, you women also use this flipping “unsure” line. yeah, you weren’t “unsure” when we were making out the other day, but things start to get serious and all of a sudden you are “unsure”.

    girl doesn’t know what she is missing out on!

  4. hahaha, I LOVE it!!! so proud of you! way to screen them when they’re fresh coz..who wants to get hurt later?!

  5. Wow, he sounds like the lost-at-birth twin of my Mr. Moneybags! You should definitely give speed dating a try. At the very least, you won’t be left sitting alone for ages.

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