Sunday is going to blame the blogging.

It was over an hour before I received a response from National Guard on Friday. Since I deleted all the text messages in my phone, I can’t exactly remember it word for word; however, I can assure you that it wasn’t the response I was wanting. Maybe I should just say that his response isn’t what I wanted to talk about right now.

Overall, Saturday was a pretty good day. I knew that National Guard had his massage class—so there was no way we were going to hang out during the hours of 8-5. So, shortly after I woke up, I texted Crystal. Long story short, we ended up going to the zoo (the pics are posted to Facebook); and overall, it was a great time. As we were driving home, it got to be after 5…and there was no text from National Guard.

Eventually, he texted me…and just as I was about to think all was right in the world, it turned out to be some nonsense. He sent me a picture of his tax return under the heading—“Look what I got before tax season.” Again, it was not the response I was wanting. On our way home, Crystal was preaching to me to not take everything so seriously—if I didn’t get anything from him, I should “take matters into my own hands” (her code for masturbation); and simply, relax.

So, instead of chiding him for not immediately inviting me to have sex with him, I texted National Guard back some random compliment about how “cool” it was that he’d already received his refund. Then I asked him about his day… So, long story short, I did not receive the invite I was awaiting. However, since I knew that Crystal was heading to dinner with her husband (and I’m not one to interrupt marital harmony), I texted and then called Ambie.

Ambie is really good to vent to because she never tells me how crazy I sound. Also, she’s good to vent to because she doesn’t make me think I’m sane when I tell her how crazy I feel. However, she does have a different outlook on things than Crystal—she likes to know. Or maybe it’s better said by stating that she doesn’t like to not know. Long story short here—we agree that maybe Crystal is right; maybe tonight just isn’t the night for National Guard and I to get together.

Crystal was right about that. During our conversation Ambie and I decide to drive to Springfield to pick up some supplies—Ambie knows what those are; however, I don’t feel that the rest of the world needs to know, as well. And during our journey, we happened to drive by National Guard’s house. Now, I think I have to admit that not knowing is better…

In his driveway, we saw a truck that I didn’t recognize; and his vehicle was gone. As Ambie pointed out, the truck in his driveway is something I’m not supposed to know about and thus can never mention. So, I denied myself the immediate gratification I craved and ignored the immediate urge to text him (and question him about his whereabouts).

Yes, this led to me emotionally overeating and obsessing about why he didn’t invite me over.

Somewhere during my gluttony—and pick the overeating or obsessing—I had an epiphany. I was perfectly sane before I blogged about him. I was perfectly sane before I took to this medium to confess to the world that I kind of liked this guy and implied that I wanted something more than just that single nice weekend with him.

However, since I started this cycle, only I can end it. But before I sign off on the topic of National Guard forever, I will tell you that he did text me, “Hey sexy” at 4:08 pm this afternoon…I replied back with, “Howdy.” And I have not received another reply since.

Yes, his “massage class” should have been the same hours today as they were yesterday. Yes, I have been wondering why he texted me at all if he wasn’t going to continue the conversation. But, no, I did not text him anything else—nor do I intend to until I receive another message. I am going to conclude that every guy—even one I might be interested in—might want some time to himself on occasion; and that maybe he’s dead asleep or walking his dogs or studying. If he wants me to know, he’ll text me.

No, my strength won’t last forever; however, I won’t be blogging about him again…

Sunday is going to blame the blogging.