Punishment for the Pressed
Oh folks. Call me “can’t get right.” I messed up with The Candidate yet again. Being emotional and silly from my weekend of self pity, I woke up this morning with the bright idea to send him a message and get ahead of what I figured was his impending rejection. All of a sudden he didn’t contact me and it continued for a few days.
So in my message I say, “Happy Sunday hope all is well. I thought we were going to talk some more. But it’s ok. Take care. ”
Several hours later after I finish a long and intense workout to get my mind right and blow off steam, he hits me back. He said he hasn’t been in contact with anyone because there was a death in the family.
I felt smaller than an ant.
My Nike sneaker tasted salty, sweaty and leathery.
I responded with an apology and my condolences. I said I had now a total of two times putting my foot in my mouth and that I was very sorry.
If this man manages to still be interested in me, I’ve decided it will be a miracle. I let myself get pressed and crazy-the very things I never want to be. And it looks like me and my pride and ego have had to pay dearly and I deserve to learn my lesson in such a manner.