I have always believed that the best way to test the substance of a relationship is to travel together, be it by road, or by air. My ex-husband and I, for instance, had to take time outs periodically while traveling. Once, after a delay of about 5 hours, I even refused to take the seat next to him on the plane.
McPokey and I had been seeing each other for a few months, and having some really fantastic ahem dinners together. It was about the time that couples decide to go for a little trip. We had chatted about the prospect a couple of times, and even had made quasi plans (that failed to materialize). One day, out of the blue McPokey announced that he was going on a trip. Alone.
I gritted my teeth and told him how happy I was for him to get away for a while. Of course, I was seething. I went home and decided that rather than buy a pack of cigarettes, I would consume a bottle of red wine.
The next morning I woke up in that lovely land between true drunkeness and hangover. I proceeded to put all of my feelings into an e-mail, to him. Fortunately, cooler minds prevailed. My extraordinarily wise room mate convinced me to not send the note right away. For once in my life I listened. I saved it in drafts, or just closed it, in any case I made it go away.
That day I received a note from McPokey asking if I wanted to go the trip with him. I was as happy as could be. I had been dreaming of and dreading this trip. It meant sleeping under the same roof, it meant mornings with bad breath and no make-up, it meant the likelihood of him hearing me fart. Oh yeah, I was also a bit wacky because I was trying to quit smoking (and I refused to smoke around him).
Of course, I convinced him that Jasper had to accompany us. This is the tactic that I generally employ to avoid uncomfortable situations. Jasper was also a prolific farter, so that would come in handy too.
The trip was a huge success, but something truly terrible happened. I was becoming attached to this odd little man. Ordinarily this might have been welcome, but I had just left my husband a few months before. On top of that we had a silent agreement that we were not interested in anything too serious.
About a week later I checked my e-mail and realized that the e-mail that I had made go away, went straight to McPokey! I was mortified. Call it lack of tobacky wacky, but, as usual I could not just leave it alone. I took the only option available to me and wrote him an e-mail. In it I apologized about the e-mail that should have never been sent. I also decided, for reasons that I don't quite recall, to push the relationship issue: do you want to be an us, or should we go our separate ways before the attachment becomes serious.
Perhaps it is not surprising that McPokey, the man who invented taking his time to make decisions, was a no-go on the relationship question.
To this day I wonder how things would have turned out had that e-mail just went away like it was supposed to. Was it destiny? Or, is it that no matter how hard the Universe tries to put me on the right path, I will always somehow manage to make a mess of it? We all need skills.
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