So Catweazle was in town this weekend visiting his friend Jim. We haven’t really been in touch since our visit to Austin in November, save for the odd IM during the 6months he was completing his intensive training course in Texas, so I was quite surprised to hear from him. I’ve always liked Catweazle, we’d had fun together, but I’d pretty much put any romantic thoughts out of my head given he lives 5 states away, however when he called me on Tuesday 14th to see if I’d like to meet up while he was in town – he’d be in town Thursday 23rd, departing Sunday 26th - I was happy to hear from him and looking forward to catching up over the weekend, something which I didn’t think would be too difficult to arrange given I had no plans for the weekend beyond taking a Summer Friday on the 24th for which I’d already made plans with my friend Sara who was coming into the city from Long Beach. Catweazle and I chatted briefly until he said he had to dash and catch his mother before she left for work. “I’ll call you back to make a plan,” he said, or words to that effect.
I anticipated hearing from him a day or two before he was due to arrive to firm up meeting, but I didn’t hear a peep out of him until he arrived around lunchtime on Thursday and sent me a text.
CW: I am officially in town. Hope your day is going well.
Me: Welcome to NYC, hope you had a good flight, you are lucky you missed the storm that is forecast!
CW: I know! What do the next couple of days hold for you?
Me: I am off tmw but had made plans with a friend already from lunch onwards. No plans Sat beyond the gym, but need to work a bit. What are you up to while you are in town?
CW: Various activities to include a Yankees game. I am free from this point until mid evening. I could head your way….
Um…head my way? What…now? Was that his idea of seeing me while he was in town, hanging out with me while he was at a loose end???? I didn't bloody think so. I mean hello, it was Thursday afternoon; I was WORKING. Fair enough if he didn't have time while he was over visiting his friend, I was under no illusion that he was coming to see me, but in that case don't call me to see if I am free over the weekend - which the last time I looked was defined by the days Saturday and Sunday - and then opportunistically text me to see if I’m available, because you have an available window while killing time between your flight arriving and your friend coming home from work and then act surprised when I say I can only meet over the weekend.
I knew chances were slim that I’d be getting out of work before 7pm and that meeting up wasn’t an option.
Me: Tonight? I am not free today
CW: So Sat is the only chance then? We’ll work something out
Me: Maybe Friday later in the day, but not definite. Sounds like your weekend is all planned.
CW: Yours too
Me (admittedly typed in a scathing tone): Hardly I am free Saturday and Sunday
CW: I was confused. Let me figure out what Jim has planned and I will let you know. Again, should be able to work it out.
“That CW doesn’t cease to surprise does he” Miles emailed me later when I wrote to ask for his opinion, “completely thoughtless - unless he was suggesting meeting on Thursday, but then seeing you properly over the weekend too, in which case I think that was quite nice.”
Hmmm, I rolled the idea around in my head a few times, but I have to say I was skeptical since I’d had the distinct impression Catweazle was looking to squeeze me in. Nevertheless I took him at his word that he would ‘work it out’ and let me know one way or the other.
The next day I met Sara outside Penn station just after 1pm as planned and we headed over to Ayza Wine and Chocolate Bar for lunch, a cute little spot within throwing distance of Macy’s that serves panini, salads and such like and of course wine and delicious Jacques Torres chocolates. Mmmm, I highly recommend it. After lunch we stopped at a couple of Chelsea galleries followed by a walk along the Highline, followed by a pit stop at Fiddlesticks pub on Greenwich Avenue for a refreshing diet coke. It was boiling hot out, so much so that we decided to finish off our day in the air-conditioned bliss of the cinema where we saw The Proposal. Clichéd, but quite cute was my verdict, it gets 7 out of 10 from me. That Ryan Reynolds is easy on the eyes isn’t he? Phew!!!
The end of the movie was perfectly timed for Sara to catch her 9:53pm train back to Long Beach. We said our farewells and I headed down into the subway to head home to the Upper East Side. I turned my mobile back on while I was on the train and as I switched lines at 51st street it buzzed to let me I had a message. Catweazle? I should cocoa!! It was my friend Melissa wishing me a nice weekend and a nice time with Catweazle.
Saturday was spent pottering about my apartment avoiding the unbearable humidity.
Catweazle never called!!
I gave up on him around 7pm and headed to the liquor store for a bottle of wine and settled in to watch The International on pay per view. Having barely left the apartment at all on Saturday – even though it was intentional during the day - I felt like sad sack sitting by the phone waiting for a guy to call. Grrrrrr!!! I was so annoyed and fueled by wine I texted Catweazle around 10:30pm to let him know that I thought it was pretty shitty of him to call and ask if I was free to meet him when he was in town and then not even bother to send me a text to let me know that something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to meet after all.
His excuse??? Oh he’d been running around with Jim nonstop, but had been meaning to call.
Isn’t it nice to find out that you’re not even worth the 30seconds it would take to send a text message? What did he expect me to say ‘oh well that’s okay then since you were meaning to call, because as everyone knows it’s the thought that counts?’
I was livid!!
I don’t know what it is about men – even seemingly nice guys* - once you’ve slept with them but even when that aspect of the relationship is over they seem to think they can treat you like shit and take you for granted.
I’ve been thinking back on my dating history recently and I think it’s clear I make bad choices where heterosexual men are concerned. My dating criteria appears to be:
1. Are you male?
2. Are you a f**kwit?
If the answer is yes to both of the above then of course I will go out with you and suffer the consequences of a guy who is incapable of behaving like an adult if things don’t work out for the best!!
I give up!!
Unless Ryan Reynolds comes a calling of course** ;-)
Completely gratuitous, but phew, who cares!! Quick, someone throw a bucket of water over me!!
*But then again they all play the “but I’m a nice guy” card don’t they?
**Yes, yes I know about Scarlett Johansson, just let me have my moment okay, it's been a rough weekend