Hurricane Logan
May 31, 2007

This man made we wait in agony over every move and every moment we would spend together. He said we could meet at 10 for one hour. Well that is what we did. He said to come over and watch TV. That is all we did. No food, no alcohol, no sex. Just TV because that is what he said. So when he said he would call me back, I knew he would. But he chose his words carefully, as carefully as he chose every other minute detail in his life including what pair of underwear he would don the next morning, and like that he chose not to say when he'd call. When he did this my heart and mind would devolve into convulsions where I could do nothing but think about him and anxiously wait in gut wrenching palpitations where my heart only beat every second time it should for him to lead me to his greatness. I couldn’t call him. Well because that was not in the instructions and because I was guaranteed no phone call back until later - the time he determined he was ready to again speak to me. So one very paranoid afternoon later, Shannon texted me the greatest words in the English language, “cockpails?” The typo a result of her early start on the game. A word that will forever mean a multitude of drinks always to begin with a very dirty martini. So cockpails it was at a four o’clock on a Friday. No, no, no lawyers don’t leave at four. Not anymore and not unless you live in New Orleans. But this was June and we had a hurricane coming. How grand it is to live in Florida sometimes? At this juncture of bad weather and cocktailing we knew that the storm wasn’t really coming, we also lived in a world pre-Katrina where all risks were scoffed at. With that I danced down the hall, towards the elevator, into my car and straight to the bar. We watched the weather, we sat outside with the unusual and often cool gusts, and we drowned in our own liquids. In a buzzed stupor I declared that I was never speaking to Mr. My Time Only if he did not call me back by nine o’clock that night. Shannon dutifully held my phone hostage in her Prada to prevent me from checking it obsessively every ten and half seconds. At a quarter to nine she granted me my one wish to have the Motorola back to check any messages from him or otherwise. When I got not a one,I slammed the phone down and again dramatically pronounced that unless my phone is broken he and I were done. Because this is what friends do who buy you cockpails and hold your phone hostage, Shannon dialed my number to show me that my phone was not broken - that he was just an asshole. She dialed and it rang and rang and rang. On her end. My little flip phone never once made a sound. When voicemail should’ve picked up, an operator came on rendering her unable to leave a message. I didn’t even get a missed call. Turned out MY PHONE WAS BROKEN. And that HE WAS NOT AN ASSHOLE. Okay wait a minute. He was still an asshole but my drunken declarations were now allowed to be thrown by the wayside. I actually could make good on those excuses. I could continue in this “relationship” and no one could stop me. Yeah no one could. They should have, but I wouldn’t let them. Not at that point anyway. Because he did call and according to him it was many times. But we have no proof of that. I'm a lawyer and I like proof. But apparently only when I have not just consumed cocktails with 8o proof vodka. So we did make plans. And we all know what that means. His plans on his time. One movie, one day, this weekend. Three hours and I am out. The hurricane never came but it did leave an excellent excuse for Logan to continue to walk all over me and the true reason why my phone did not work that night. I let him because I was having fun and I was too busy tyring to maintain the rest of my life to even see what I can see so clearly now. The thick of the fog of that relationship storm made it so no calls could get through to me about where we were headed. Like the hurricane that never hit the Bay, we were in a relationship that was going nowhere either. It just took me a while to realize it.

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Blogger Princess Extraordinaire said:

Cool, well, written post - I think it's funny that your phone reAlly was broken - been there - slammed the phone but mine was never really broken!

6:31 AM 

Blogger brookem said:

like YOU missy have told me before, sometimes it takes a bit of time, and perspective (and uh, less fogginess) to see things clearly.

we all need a shannon in our lives! seriously.

7:39 AM 

Blogger e.b. said:

well that was two years ago - sometimes it just takes that long.

7:44 AM 

Anonymous ruby said:

You're lucky to have a Shannon in your life! Everyone need a friend (or five)like that. It can't have been a fun situation for you but I'm glad you were able to work through it and I hope you're never in anything like that again.

10:40 AM 

Blogger Mel said:

I like that you tagged it "last life". I feel that way about my old destructive "I'll never make that mistake again" relationship. It takes pain sometimes to feel on top of the world again.

I want a cockpail right now :)

11:45 AM 

Anonymous Anonymous said:

Well written!

Men like that make us want to down too many cockpails ;). I'm so glad you have a good man now.

3:12 PM 

Blogger Bre said:

I do so love the way you string thoughts together! It's amazing what some time, distance, and perspective can do!! :)

5:17 PM 

Anonymous Anonymous said:

Glad you figured it out. Time really does tell.

5:18 AM 

Anonymous Shannon said:

Ahhh...the night the word cockpails was born. I remember it well. Here's to Hurricane Season 2007 (which officially begins today) and it being a little less emotionally stormy.

7:58 AM 

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