Lonely and Tired

What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor?

I eyed my phone on the bedside table warily. I wasn't inclined to pick it up to discover if the messages I'd exchanged with Brian into the early hours of the morning were real or just a figment of my imagination. I turned my head speculatively on my pillow. My brain wasn't sloshing around in my head. Hmmm. That was a good sign right? No indication of a hangover. Of course that also meant that nothing I'd written in the messages I was too afraid to read could be blamed on alcohol. Although that wasn't entirely true because in what universe was it ever a good idea to respond to a thoughtful, confusing gift after a day spent drinking Buck's Fizz, red wine and Bailey's Irish Cream?

My phone was an important part of my livelihood but I picked it with about the same level of enthusiasm I would give a Funnel Web Spider. Opening my messages I began to read even though most of what was written was already ingrained into my brain. I wasn't rereading everything because I wanted to find something different to what had been written, it was just that I was still confused. Uncertain.

Me: Thank you for the beautiful gift.

There, that was polite wasn't it? My heart had leapt a little when he'd responded almost immediately.

Brian: You're welcome. It was nothing.

When I'd first read that the Bailey's had churned in my stomach. If I'd not seen the dots indicating that he was still typing I may have thrown my phone aside and done the work needed to give me a hangover.

Brian: Scrap that. It was something.

Me: It was?

For the love of god, I'd wanted to scream, tell me what!

Brian: Of course it was. I was worried you didn't like it. Matt and Val were there with you hours ago and Val refused to discuss what you said with me.

Jeez Val, way to make him suffer. I had to applaud her feminine solidarity.

Me: Val's sneaky. She didn't tell me she'd left it. Cathy only just found the gift bag under the tree.

Brian: I'm sorry. I should have made sure she gave it to you.

Me: No. I preferred it this way. Not opening it in front of my bitch cousins. It was more private.

It was true. I was glad that M and M hadn't been there to watch me open it. They were clearly on the side of the social media mean girls and although I'd long since decided to ignore the judgment I didn't really want my nose rubbed in it.

Brian: I'm glad you got the privacy you want then.

Huh? I wasn't the only one who wanted privacy, he was the one who broke up with me because his fans had started a hate campaign against me.

Me: Don't you?

There, it was out there.

Brian: I want what you want.

That response had made me want to scream. What the fuck did that even mean? My libido wanted me to climb him like a tree. My heart wanted him to tell me he loved me and never wanted to let me go. My good sense wanted me to make a decision about where I wanted to go next and go there, knowing things with Brian were over and that in time I'd get over him and maybe eventually we could be friends. If he wanted all that he would have to be seriously confused and FYI in possession of some seriously underexplored telepathic abilities.

Me: Do you?

Yeah, yeah. There I went with the eloquence again but it was better than replying in all caps demanding an explanation of exactly what he thought I wanted.