reunited and it feels too good

on sunday i was faced with the horror of attacking my apartment to look for my birth certificate for my trip to hawaii and washing several loads of clothes. once i walked into the apartment i realized that i would need a little help from the opposite sex to move things around to actually find anything.

as my luck would have it, my list of able bodied men ready to jump at the chance to help a temptress in distress all live in the great state of miss'ippi. i was up shit's creek without a paddle and resorted to desperate measures to get a little help. as i searched my phone for who to call i made two calls, both placed as pseudo tests of loyalty . . .

the first to the little boy, the second to the perpetual ten year ex, yup you guessed it - the guy who placed me in the pre-engagement girlfriends club also known as "10". these calls would only produce the exact results i wasn't looking for . . .

after spending the day at diva527's washing clothes, i headed to my new temporary home - the holiday inn. i checked my voicemail and was taken aback by the message and the sender. it was 10. our last conversation replayed in my head and my heart floated in a uncomfortable heaviness. i took down his number and debated making the call. i dialed the numbers and after several rings a female answered:

NT: may i speak to 10
un id'ed female: you have the wrong number
NT: excuse the call

dayummmmmm, thank goodness, cuz if that was her, he is bold as hell

dial again . . . he picks up on the second ring . . . and a wave of uncomfortable ease comes over me. as we catch up on small talk, i of course give him the run down of my experience with the little boy. damn my need to look like i've moved on, but hell, ain't nobody sittin around waiting on a soon to be married man.

then the conversation rolls in a familiar direction, a direction that an engaged man could/should never take a conversation. the elephant in the room.

10: can i see you?
NT: ummm, so anyway, can you believe this man stopped talking to me because i left my underwear at his house?
10: are you ignoring my question on purpose?
NT: that is not a question you should ask
10: the question you don't want to ask was answered when i left you that voicemail. are you really that slow?
NT: my inner blonde takes over every once in a while, why don't you just tell me . . .
10: she's gone

SHE'S GONE! WTF? that's what the fuck i'm talking about, i spent hour upon hour crying my eyes out for you to get engaged, buy a house, move a chic in, bicker with her over trivial BS, breakup, call off your engagement and put her the fuck out - all in less than a year and a half.

WTF??????

of course the daytime drama of NT and 10 picked up right where it left off and the quicksand closed in around my old navy flip flops . . .