I made plans to go see Matt last weekend, got in my car Saturday at 5 to go meet him at the time we’d planned. Just before getting on the highway I stopped at a gas station and texted to verify the address. He responded that he was in my town.
Sarah “What? Why? I thought we were meeting in the city”
Matt “I’m at a bbq”
S “were you going to tell me?”
M “yeah I’m texting you now”
S “no, I texted you. You were not going to tell me”
M “it’s a memorial for my boy that ODed a year ago’
S “if you can’t hang out I understand, but let me know”
M “no I still want to hang out”
S “when did you know your plans were changing? And when, relative to that time, were you going to tell me?”
M “why are you mad”
S “I’m incredulous. I would have gone to your house, and you’d be nowhere, you do understand what a dick move that is, right?”
M “did you go in to the city yet”
S “no, because I had the foresight to confirm with you, because I know you’re kind of flakey”
M “its not a big deal, just come get me and we can go to my place and go out”
S “at least tell me that if I had not texted you on my way out, and I was there right now feeling like an idiot, that you would feel at least a little bad about fucking up, so I know that you are not a total sociopath”
M “you are being rude”
S “You said you’d meet me at your house now, you’re not there now, and you made no effort to tell me, you don’t think that’s inconsiderate?”
M “did you have a bad day? Do you need a hug?”
S “I had an awesome day. I just can’t believe you would do something so stupid, because I know you’re not stupid.”
This went on for a bit and spiraled until I texted “Fucking you is not worth the effort” and failed to hit cancel fast enough. I stood in my living room for a few minutes thinking about my options. I was wearing a new dress that I loved, my hair looked great, I had just booked it to a last minute Brazilian bikini wax… what was I going to do with my night? I had a few other offers for that night that I’d turned down because I had plans with Matt. Could I call them and say the date fell through? Tell them they were plan B? Tell them I got stood up? Stay home and sulk? I’d been looking forward to this all week, I had this lingering interest and even though I knew Matt was a total shit show, I’d figured I’d just get it out of my system. And I felt guilty. I was angry and I said something just to be mean, because nothing else was getting a reaction.
Matt “let me know if you feel like apologizing.”
Sarah “I’m sorry that I was mean, that wasn’t necessary, I was frustrated that you couldn’t understand why that was messed up thing to do.”
Matt “and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I probably should have”
Wow, ok.
“and as soon as I get you home you’re so getting spanked for being rude to me”
There it is.
We went in to Philly, got drunk, went to a party at a club his friend owned. I got hit on by earnest 22 year olds, because the smiling, wide-eyed girl in the Anthropologie dress is a lot more approachable than the tough looking hipster girls with septum piercings. One of those beautiful, bad-ass hipster girls hung out with me in the filthy bathroom asking if her boyfriend had said anything about her to Matt, if she should say she loved him first or wait for him to say it, and did I think it was too soon for her to move in with him? I should have asked her which Sex and the City character was her favorite. We danced in the DJ booth while the club owner sprayed a shook up bottle of champagne over the crowd.
Later, after having sex, Matt was surveying my body and said, as he’d said before, “I want to buy you a really tight red dress and take you out. You’d look so fucking hot, you should wear tighter clothes.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Like, every guy there would be trying to hit on you,” he said, beaming
“Why would I want that?”
“Well, it would make me look good!”
Last year I might have actually engaged in this conversation, that I buy my own clothes, thanks, that I don’t really like red, that while I can’t say I don’t like being hit on, I appreciate quality over quantity, and that making him look good was in no way my job, or even one I was qualified for. I would have explained to him that while he might find soft, fleshy curves irresistible, this was not the mainstream beauty standard. I would have told him he was wrong for thinking I was a trophy, for every reason. But I was exhausted, so I just fell asleep.
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