Waking up really early on Sunday mornings is something I'll never get used to. When I was younger, I imagined my older self waking up late on Sunday mornings, making some coffee, and sitting in my small kitchen nook attempting the Sunday Times Crossword. Not standing at a smelly subway platform waiting for a train that would take me on my hour-long schlep back to my apartment.
The thought of crosswords makes me think of him. I look at the messages from late last night.
"How did your night end up?"
Followed by, "Apparently well. Hit me up when you can."
And then, "I miss talking to you."
And after that, "I miss you."
I'm not used to having someone want to talk to me as much as I like talking, much rather a guy that, okay, I won't lie, I am interested in. What is happening? I feel like I keep saying this to myself over and over.
I text a quick reply.
"All is good. It did go well. How are you?"
I don't get a quick response like usual. I think to myself that maybe me being in the subway is halting my messages. But when I get to my apartment, I still haven't gotten anything back.
Although, I am surprised he hasn't responded, I feel different about not getting a response than I usually do. The difference here is that I'm not as disappointed as I would be if it were Matt. If it were Matt not answering my message, I'd be incredibly anxious and upset, and constantly asking him why he's not responding by spamming him with messages. Since I have no real reason to be upset in this case, it's somewhat easier to let it go.
YOU ARE READING
A Little Variety
RomanceI was bored. No that's a lie. I wasn't bored. I was just me. And I was lonely. And it wasn't supposed to mean anything. It really wasn't. But we found each other when we were both lost. A love story that wasn't meant to happen.
