Wednesday, July 30, 2008

In which you thank God you are not dating me.

So I pick up my phone, and see that I have 3 missed calls, all from Darwin, and 2 voicemails. Naturally concerned, I listen to the first voicemail.

He sounds like death on toast, so as soon as he gets to "I'm having a really bad day," I hang up the phone, and call his cell (I am a worst-case scenario kind of girl). It goes straight to voicemail.

At which point I remember- that's right! He is house sitting for the Antigunner! I will call him on the land line and make sure everything is ok.

So I call him on the land line. It goes to the machine. Since he checks it when he is house sitting, I leave him a message on the AntiGunner's machine- very sympathetic and good-girlfriendy. Out of character, right? I know.

Then I listen to my voicemails, which remind me of the fact I already knew: He is not house sitting for the AntiGunner anymore. He is going to the AntiGunner's house for a big, fat engagement party.

The moral of the story? Now Darwin, AntiGunner's Family, AntiGunner's Hot Fiancee's family, and every friend in the tri-county area knows that (1) Darwin is having a bad day, but (2) it will get better, and (3) I miss him and love him, so he should call me back as soon as he's got a chance.

Oh yes. I have achieved inadvertent PDA on a GRAND scale. D'oh.


no634 said...

Maybe Antigunner will listen to it in private and delete it? No?

All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson