This is the Terminator’s pissy way of letting me know he’s annoyed with me because I forgot to give him my current phone number. It was an oversight. I thought he had it, really. And I did call him, but as usual he didn’t pick up. This has me thinking. All summer while I was seeing J. getting my feet wet in relationship land, thoughts of the Terminator would creep up on me unbidden and leave me emotionally upset. All summer in between spreading the joy to who knows how many hot young things, he has been trying to see me. The last time we talked he made it abundantly clear he didn’t care, although he seemed to be annoyed that I didn’t dissolve into tears at the news. Why? I’ve made it clear I will keep fucking him regardless, so what’s the problem? My body isn’t enough? He wants my heart to play with too? Sigh. Whatever. Emails from him always bring a smile to my face, pissy or not.
“i guess we are never going to meet again because it’s impossible to reach you.”