A Case of the Mondays

If you follow me on Twitter, then you know bits and pieces of this story already.

Remember this post? I talked about a waiter I left my number for, and he called? And we spent a summer together - seriously, every.single.day. unless we were working, we were together.

August 2005. It was a Sunday. I was at work. Probably doing something like this:

Who wouldn't want a piece of this?

And he called to tell me he was going out with one of his friends, to look at apartments. He was off from work, and asked me what time I was done. He told me he'd call me when he was back. 

I didn't hear from him that night, or the next day, or the day after that...

Why didn't I call him? He broke his cell phone, was in the process of getting a new one. I called his number a few times that first week, but it always went straight to voicemail. I stopped.

This was before Twitter, Facebook, or even MySpace was popular. There was no cyber stalking this guy, but trust me, I tried to. I was extremely upset, but eventually moved on.

Then, 8 months later, I was at work - again, probably doing something like this:



And I received a call from a number I didn't know. I never pick up the phone it's a number I don't know, but for some reason, I did ...and it was him. He gave me some bullshit story about a girl he met, and they started dating (oh hey, I thought we were?) but she turned out to be crazy, so he dumped her.

We talked for a while that night, and then again the next day, and then he asked if I wanted to hang out. I agreed. He told me he'd pick up something for me to drink, asked what I wanted. I said Coors Light. He told me he was home, asked what time I'd be over. I said after work.

 I never went. Or called. Or answered his calls.

I really hope you weren't expecting me to hang out with the guy after he was a dick to me!

And that was it. Until yesterday.

While at work, the administrative person came into my office and said the sink hole in our parking lot (that was apparently fixed while I was on vacation) was indeed, sinking again. I told her to call the water department, because I guess that's who looked at it the first time.

They arrived about fifteen minutes later. They needed to look at some water tank thingy. I really have no idea what they asked to look at, because I wasn't listening. I looked up, saw him, and thought, "Is that...?"

I think I pooped my pants. I really think I did. SEVEN YEARS AGO I told him to get me Coors Light, and then I never showed up. And here he was. Standing in my office.

I told the admin woman to get one of the drivers to help, because I was busy. Yeah, busy cleaning up the mess in my pants. Also, I obviously had to tweet about this and text Sam.

"The Sailor" is his nickname because he was in the Navy.

He did about 3 sets of triple takes, looking into my office, looking at the name on my door (just says my title, not my name). At this point, I still wasn't sure. Then, the guy he was with said his name, and I knew.

The best tweet award goes to Michelle. Trust me girl, pushing him in the sink hole crossed my mind.

HOW CRAZY, RIGHT? After all this time, and he's standing in my office. They left shortly after. I didn't say anything else to him, and he didn't say anything else to me.

What...a Monday.