Sunday I decided at the last minute to go to a literary street festival, but more importantly I decided to invite E., a woman I had been chatting with online but had yet to meet, to come with me. She came, we had a good time, went for a quick spin on my motorcycle and then chatted over a frozen coffee treat in a park.
Monday I had my trivia league, and the opponents were one of my favourite teams, with whom it is always fun to catch up.
Tuesday I had a hockey game, but first went out with my friend Sh., who messaged me in the morning saying something like "I think you should take me out for a drink tonight, in my neighbourhood". She required consolation for having missed out on a job she really had her hopes up for, as well as the latest in her series of dating disasters. She had more or less predicted the rejection the week before and had joked that we ought to plan to console each other on the Thursday - as she (quite rightly it turns out) predicted that I would also be stood up by T. (see below).
Wednesday was hockey in the morning, my initial session of life coaching with LD in the afternoon, and in the evening I stayed home and answered some overdue emails. Late that evening I got an online call from E., who was treated to a webcam tour of my house, including, somewhat inexplicably, the contents of my refrigerator.
Thursday I was supposed to go out with T., who, to the surprise of no one, cancelled. And that morning, S. called me, although I did not answer the phone. I went shopping after work with J., and while we were out I got a call that I had been approved for an apartment I had applied for downtown. We went out to an Indian restaurant and I had lots of leftovers for lunch the following day.
Friday I went out with E. for our second date. We were supposed to go to a show of sorts at the french language institute, but she was not feeling well and/or tired and suggested we scale it back to me picking her up and taking her out for dinner, which I did and we did. It turned out to be a rather more cerebral evening than either of us would have planned I am sure, and I returned home somewhat discouraged.
But if Friday night ended on a discouraging note, Saturday morning started out even more bleakly. I woke up for the fourth day in a row dreaming about S. -- In this case I was hugging her as tightly as I could and bawling my eyes out, repeating over and over "I miss you so much". My mother came for lunch and then I went out for dinner and drinks with LB, my confidence mentor. We had, as we always do, a fantastic time, covering ground I just never seem to cover with anyone else I know, ground which I am not sure I even knew existed before I met her. We got a little bit carried away, even for us who have known a bit of excess in our limited relationship, but it was and is all good, and for the first morning in five days I awoke Sunday morning compleletely free of any thoughts of S., and devoid of her usual entourage of dread, regret, loneliness and shame. And I rested -- after retrieving my bicycle from the railway station, I did not again leave the house.
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