the reschedule revolving door

I've been away. I've been in love. But at home it seems like everything I've been running away from has been nipping at my heels, trying to catch up with me. Even if I try to live life in this paradise mind frame with my new "no worries" attitude, every time I look over my shoulder, my vices, and my exes, are gaining on me.

It's strange how so much of you can change when your away, but everything else stands so still, nagging at you the moment you arrive, testing the endurance of your new found enlightened self. For me, those tests came in several varieties, most recent of which, was the obligatory "catch up" with my London Boy.

I had been dreading (and secretly anticipating) this reunion before my return as messages of the facebook and text message variety flooded my various inboxes. And although my heart is spoken for, my curiosity was not. Had he changed? Was he still in love with me? As he was ever the dramatist, I couldn't help what beyond romantic escapade awaited me, even if for propriety sake, it needed to be declined.

I found myself swept up in a wind whirl of engagements as soon as I got home, but when my London Boy finally called to set up a day I was outwardly torn (is it proper to go?) and inwardly ecstatic (finally I'll know what he's been thinking!). The day came and went without acknowledgment (on his end) until a few days later, when a phone call with a profuse apology followed, "Can we please reschedule?"

Ever the optimist, I rescheduled. But to enrage my fury, the next set day came and went without pause. A few days later, "I guess we both forgot," his text message swooned. (I did not though I did mark it in pencil), "Can we please reschedule for next Tuesday, no more rain cheques." I begrudgingly agreed. I was starting to lose my curiousness and instead start measuring up this behaviour to the kiwi who has my heart and never missed a date or a long distance phone call.

Tuesday, at 5pm, I get a text message, "I have some classic bad news. I'm afraid I have to abort our plans. I'm sorry. [enter lame excuse about work] I've been looking forward to this for some time. Can we please reschedule?" Here we are in the same area code and the boy can't keep a date if his life depended on it, meanwhile, my kiwi always finds a way to tell me he loves me, despite the 5,000 Km and useless cellphone carriers that keep us under lock and contract. My curiosity abated, I step out of the useless reschedule revolving door with my reply, "It's okay. We don't have to, it never seems to be the right time."