When Your Date is Nearly Four Hours Late

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When I was dating my ex-boyfriend there was this guy, Peter, who would randomly pop up at group events. Maybe he would stay for an hour, or sometimes even less. If we were at a bar he’d always come out. After thirty minutes he’d always want to drive another forty minutes away to go to a better place. He’d ask if I wanted to come but I’d constantly decline the invite. Then he would disappear until I saw him the next time.

Last New Year’s Eve Peter invited all his friends over for his apartment warming. They all said they would come. My ex’s friend was able to rent out this gorgeous palatial spot in an executive apartment overlooking Times Square. However, I thought it would be best for us to go to Peter’s apartment first and then to the awesome party spot afterwards. Little did I know, it did not go as planned.

My ex boyfriend and I get to Peter’s apartment. He answers the door completely aloof. I can smell the reek of marijuana smoke wafting from his apartment. He looks at the empty space behind us.

“Is anyone with you guys?” he asks.

“No, man it’s just us,” my then boyfriend replied.

His apartment was small and cluttered. It was slightly awkward just the three of us sitting around, waiting.

“My brother and his girlfriend will be here soon,” Peter said to us.

I know how much my ex had wanted to go to his friends place in Times Square so I felt a little bad for making him go to Peter’s first.

“You know what? My friend has an apartment on 42nd street we should go to that,” my ex said.

“Okay, let’s just wait for everyone to get here before we leave,” Peter replied.

So Peter’s twin and his girlfriend arrive at the apartment. It’s about 10:30 when we’re all bundled up, our insides swimming in alcohol and $150 worth of champagne go into plastic bags as we trek out into the frigid New York City streets to reach our next destination. It wasn’t long before this silly group of five realized that there was no way in hell we were getting into that area so close to midnight. It was a lost, drunk fest but it was fun anyway.

Fast forward almost a year later, the then-boyfriend is gone. I’ve been single for a while. I was at the gym the day after Thanksgiving when I see Peter standing right in front of me. We gave each other a hug and made small talk. He mentioned if I wanted to do anything this weekend he would be around.

The last time I had seen Peter it was at my 24th birthday. He was there for a total of 15 minutes, as always. In that amount of time that he was there recounting a story about that time he went skydiving, I found myself very attracted to him. Even jealous of the random girl he mentioned in his story. Bizarre, I thought to myself and then I let that thought leave my mind as he walked out the door to go to a better bar 40 minutes away.

After seeing him at the gym, I received a message on Facebook later that night from Peter asking me for my phone number. He said he got a new phone and lost all of his contacts. Mother fucker never even had my number to begin with, but I just let that slide and gave it to him. I drove myself to near insanity waiting two weeks for this guy to send me a text. I would text my friends saying, “Why would he ask me for my phone number if he wasn’t going to use it?” And so on … blah, blah, blah.

Well, he finally did text me to invite me snowboarding in Vermont that Saturday. A five hour drive each way, all in a day trip, with a stranger, to do something I had never done before. It was tough to pass up but I already had plans. I would text my friends, “This guy wants to take me snowboarding.” And they’d say, “Yeah, no. What happened to coffee.”

Finally, we made a plan to actually hang out. And I call it “hanging out” because Christmas shopping does not count as a date to me. Especially not a first date, it just doesn’t. But since I was kind of excited to see him I agreed. In the days before today he told me twice how excited he was to see me. I thought it was sweet, however frankly now I really don’t care. He had wanted to pick me up today at 11 a.m. I mentioned that was way too early, so we settled on 1 p.m.

I woke up, watched Giada’s Family Christmas on Food Network, got ready by 12:30 and waited.

At about 12:34 I receive this text:

Peter:  I didn’t get home until 7 am last night just woke up running late :/

Me, 12:35: Tsk tsk

Me, 12:35: No good

Me, 12:25: 130?

Me, 12:49: Are you still in Queens -_-

Me, 2:24: Let me know when you’re close so I know when to be ready.

Me, 3:28: Hey, just forget it. We can do it another time.

Do you know what time it is now? It’s 4:24. Nothing. Not a text, not a phone call. Not a word from this idiot who was “so excited to see me.” I guess this is karma for agreeing to hang out with some guy who’s in the same circle of friends as my ex-boyfriend. Like I expected him to be any different, or any better than my last failed relationship. Lol. How totally naïve of me. So I have been ditched. Bon voyage, hasta luego, hasta la vista, it never would have worked out anyway. NEEEXXTT!

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