When I got up this morning, after a long night of debauchery, I stumbled downstairs and checked my phone. Through bleary eyes, I saw a message from Marian. And another. And another. And another.
Hey, are you doing anything today? I thought we could grab lunch.
Are you there?
Are you mad at me?
You don’t have to ignore me.
Real mature, asshole.
A few seconds later, I tapped out the following response:
Sorry, was out late with a colleague. Got up late, didn’t mean to miss your messages. But you just crossed the fine line between concerned and crazy bitch. So, we’re done. Don’t bother contacting me again.
I know it was one time, but really, one time is all it takes. I feel like I narrowly avoided a really bad situation here. Like I was bending backward Matrix-style while bullets of crazy whizzed past me at a speed of batshit bonkers. I’m The One, people.
Me: “So what, you’re saying I can dodge bitches?”
Morpheus: “No, Bi. I’m saying, when you’re ready… you won’t have to.”
I don’t know why I find that so very amusing. I think it’s the residual bits of exhaustion. I haven’t had quite enough coffee this morning.
Fuck, is it even morning anymore?
That’s it. Yoga.