Today started off painfully, but I finally managed to get out of my apartment and onto the subway so I could take care of some cats that I am petsitting right now. I figured that if my neck pain remained so bad that I had to either scream or barf, the subway was the place to do so, since I’d blend in with the natives. Fortunately, after consuming numerous analgesics like they were popcorn, I am now, several hours later, able to function reasonably well. I still am feeling pain, but fortunately nothing like earlier this week (and nothing like earlier in the day). Hopefully, the trend of lessening pain will continue.
Unfortunately, my physical pain in the neck was immediately replaced by another pain in my neck, an anthropogenic pain in my neck: a man whom I’d stupidly gone on a blind date with ONCE five years ago called me today out of the blue, even though we’ve never seen each other since.
I have told this guy numerous times that even though the Broadway play was nice, he is just not my type. Regardless of how I phrase my desire to never speak to him again, he absolutely refuses to understand this, and pleads to “remain friends” (friends? hello? I know him well enough to know that I don’t want to know him any better). So he compromises by disappearing for six or seven months at a time and then calls me after I’ve forgotten that he exists, and we have to go through this whole song and dance again.
Of course, this time, I was expecting a phone call from the laywer who says she is going to sue me for yet another unpaid medical bill, so a blocked phone number either means that the lawyer is calling or the hospital billing department is calling. In either case, not answering my phone could potentially lead to additional problems. So this afternoon, when I received a call from a blocked number on my cell phone, I answered it and ..
“Hello, it’s me.”
“Who? Who is this? I have no idea who this is.” I am cranky and completely disoriented, either from confusion or drugs, or probably both.
“It’s Aaandrew,” said the voice, drawing his name out a bit. “Remember me? We went to a Broadway play awhile ago.” By using the vague phrase “awhile ago,” Aaandrew neatly sidesteps the fact that this “play date” was five years ago.
“Oh, I can’t talk right now,” I state flatly as unpleasant memories flood into my consciousness. I am unwilling to get sucked in to another one of his “poor me, why can’t we be just friends? You know, like for seeing plays and musicals? We don’t even have to kiss!” discussions on my expensive and very limited cell phone minutes.
Because you are a stupid, boring, humorless, self-absorbed name-dropper, I don’t tell him.
“I’m on deadline,” I pause. “In fact, I thought you were my editor calling because I am late with my story,” I lied, angry and frustrated because I have neither an editor nor a story deadline, but I know that Aaandrew will accept a lie without argument instead of the simple truth, a truth that I’ve explained to him more times these past five years than I care to recall.
GAH! Why didn’t I just tell him that I joined a convent? And come to think of it, why do all the creepy guys want to hang out with me, while all the interesting guys want to hang out with someone else? And why can’t I get rid of creepy guys, even when I am honest to the point of causing them psychic pain? I am not psychologically equipped to deal with other people’s desperation and neediness; I can barely handle my own.
I think I need some more pain killers. I’ll wash them down with coffee this time. Caffeine enhances the pain relieving qualities of most analgesics.