Reasoning

If I send you a text, you have two reasons for not texting me back within twelve hours. 1. You are dead. 2. You are maimed in some horrible accident that has involved amputation of both hands. Those are the only reasons. If it isn't one of those two reasons, you are dead to me. There is even a little leeway if you choose to call instead of texting. I'm flexible like that. And I knew it was going to take FG  more than 72 hours to get in touch with me after returning from his week of sitting in Canada while holding a fishing pole. Yes, I know there was some casting and reeling in fish involved, but mostly I imagine sitting and holding a pole the majority of the time. All that translates to the beginning of the end. He either really doesn't want to be dating, or he doesn't want to be dating me.

Friday marks the return of my optimism. I'm optimistic that this time might be the time that things go well. I'm optimistic that I will look cute and appealing and not desperate. I imagine witty conversation without nervous laughter or awkward silence. I can picture myself driving home while grinning. You know, that goofy grin of a good date. My long term goals aside, right about now, I could use just one good date.