At the very least, he was a month late. Over a month late after 2 weeks of profound avoidance and unanswered questions, texts… He would walk away when I would try to speak to him at our regular bar–which we both continue to use.
So, yes, I had to give up on the extremely short “friendship” when he blocked me on Facebook. (I still don’t understand why he blocked me, we had very little interaction on the platform)
I’m not used to men having two opposing poles.
Some men are just as “cray cray” as some women. In that whole “I’m going to complicate things for no reason… aside from the fact that I like drama,” kinda way.
So there’s that.
And then there was last night; Game 3 of the NBA Finals, Warriors Vs. Cavs; His Birthday at our bar; His drunken evening into his 30’s; His desire for a truce.
A truce? Really? I still don’t understand why we were at odds. And if that was your monthly PMS disruption, not sure I can handle another one in the near future.
“Sure,” I said as he hugged me, my arms remained hanging, lifeless, at their respective sides. The night went on like all the others.
But I wouldn’t allow him to kiss me again–
6 weeks, a little too late… And come to think about I, that is the same number of weeks since my emotions ceased to exist.
I think that the extension of my refusal to date must go on.