I had been away for three days and I hadn’t heard from Lo. She hadn’t heard from me either because before I left we hadn’t properly made up after our fight. On the fourth day of my five day trip I received a text from her around 6:00 pm. It simply said, “Dinner plans with Robert tonight.”
I immediately called her. The stalemate of silence be damned, I had to know the details. Was this a date? What had transpired to bring this about? Had she been having “dinner plans” with Robert all week? There were so many questions swirling in my mind unanswered. I had to know.
“Hello,” she said coldly.
“Hello,” I said imitating her tone.
“Did you call for something?”
“I just, um, thought I’d say hi.”
“Hi,” she said flatly.
“What’s this I hear about plans with Robert?” I got right to the point since it was obvious why I was calling and I might as well drop the subterfuge.
“He and I are going to dinner tonight,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Going out or going to his place?”
“Out.” She wasn’t revealing many details and I could tell she was secretly delighting in my curiosity. She was hoping it was a manifestation of jealously.
“Like, to a restaurant.”
“That’s usually where couples go out for dinner.”
“Oh, so now you’re a couple, are you?”
“I’m just saying, in general. But there will only be the two of us.”
“Sounds romantic,” I said with some sarcasm.
“A gal of my age, my looks, my intelligence deserves some romance.” Ouch! Cutting.
“Well, have a good time.”
“I intend to.”
“OK,” I said, hurt from her comment, “bye.”
She just hung up.
In this little game of cold shoulder, she was winning because she had a hot body attached to that cold shoulder. Damnit!
There was nothing I could do from hundreds of miles away but wait, for I knew that if something sexual were to happen between them, she wouldn’t delay in telling me, if for no other reason than to make me jealous. Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t jealousy I was feeling, but longing, curiosity, desire, and a prurient prick of stimulation by my groin. In other words, I wanted her. I wanted her to want him and for him to have her and I wanted to be in on it. But I was on the outs.
So I waited. And waited. And waited. It was past ten, then eleven, and finally midnight when finally I got a text from her. It read, “Driving home. You can call me if you want.”
She knew me. In the battle of who-can-outlast-whom, she outwitted me. She won. There was nothing to do but concede defeat. I called immediately.
“Hi,” I said mawkishly.
“Oh, hi,” she said, as if surprised by my call. A total ruse.
“How was your night?”
“It was good.” She wasn’t going to reveal details until I had shown sufficient interest and she had tortured me to teach me who is boss.
“What did you do?”
“We had dinner.”
“And?” she knew what I wanted to know.
“And then went to his house.”
“And?”
“And we talked.”
“And?” I was getting very frustrated, but I also knew she was going to put me through my paces.
“What would you like to know, Daddio?” she asked. The use of Daddio meant two things: 1) Something salacious happened; 2) She felt vindicated enough to return to her proper role.
“You know, dear.”
“No, I don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”
“Well then,” she said, “you’ll just have to fly back home right away and ask me in person.
“You’re not going to tell me?!”
“I’m exhausted and I’m almost home. Have a safe flight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
So I was wrong. She hadn’t felt vindicated enough. She was going to turn the screw a little tighter and let me lie awake and suffer my own self-inflicted punishment. Cruel, cruel woman.