Did NOT See That Coming
As much as I love schedules and knowing plans, there are times where I just go with the flow. Roll with it. Be easy going and spontaneous. My plans for this evening were just that: loose and changing. And ultimately involved something I did NOT see coming.
My original plans for tonight were to meet a friend at a local Italian restaurant for a drink and to chat. She's recently made it through some major marital difficulties, and in addition to being a trusted friend and wonderful Christian woman, because of her trials and also because she found love later in life, she is a great "mentor" for me in many ways. Well, around noon or so, she messaged me needing to cancel. She's come down with a cold and she's supposed to run in a local race this weekend. I told her to get better, and we'd find another time.
My plans for tonight then became this: after teaching my two Thursday fitness classes, I'd go into church and finish up that which I needed to do for Sunday without needing to keep an eye on the clock. After that, I'd come home, take a much-needed shower, throw a frozen pizza in the oven, and do laundry and grade papers. At this point, here's how my evening has gone:
Thursday fitness classes, check. They went well, and I pushed myself because I felt I needed to.
Church work, done. Got what I needed to get done, done, and a couple other things.
Shower, oh yes. It was all I needed and more.
But upon coming out of the shower, I was wrapped in my old trusty bathrobe, hair tied up in a towel. I stopped at the sink to check something in the mirror, and then it happened. I heard a sound I hadn't heard in some time. A sound I never thought I'd hear again. A sound that caused an immediate adrenaline rush, complete with me shaking partly in excitement, and partly in fear. It came from my phone, over on the bed.
It's called "Noir." It is one of the tones that comes standard on the iPhone. And it happens to be the sound I'd assigned to the ex.
I honestly, honestly, honestly thought I would never hear from him again. The last text I got from him, knowing him as well as I do, was really quite final. In spite of the beliefs of my friends, I, in my heart, thought communication was done for good.
Now don't be getting your hopes up. This conversation wasn't him begging for me back. While it mostly felt like our conversations while we were dating, it also felt a little reserved on his end. I can't blame him; the last time we were texting I was prone to irrational reactions. He has no reason to know I've leveled out since then.
He texted to let me know he'd received the gift card in the mail and was texting confirmation at my request. He then asked a somewhat safe but personal question. I replied, thanking him for letting me know, and answered his question. He commented on my answer. I then asked how he was doing and if he was ready for his retreat this weekend. He said he was fine and ready, and about to get on the road. Then what he texted is what has me guardedly optimistic. He concluded that text with TTYL.
TTYL, the texting shortcut for "talk to you later." When he sends that, he means it. If he wants to end a conversation, he says "take care."
I am a professional at grasping at straws. My regular readers know this. So, here are the straws I'm looking at right now:
1. The original text wasn't just a confirmation. It also asked a personal question. If he didn't want to be in communication, he would've just said, "Got the gift card back. Texting confirmation at your request."
2. He answered when I replied. More than once.
3. The TTYL. As I've just mentioned, when he sends that he means it. Which says to me communication is back on.
Still, I'm leaving the ball in his court. I replied to his TTYL text with my own, and I'm leaving it at that. For the time being, communication has been reinstated. I know I won't hear from him before Sunday afternoon; even while we were dating I knew during this retreat he'd be out-of-touch. Just knowing that I really haven't been completely cut off is bringing me some peace. Perhaps we really can make an attempt at friendship, and if that becomes something more, well, so be it.
Until then, at least I now have a fresh texting memory from him that makes me smile instead of cry.
My original plans for tonight were to meet a friend at a local Italian restaurant for a drink and to chat. She's recently made it through some major marital difficulties, and in addition to being a trusted friend and wonderful Christian woman, because of her trials and also because she found love later in life, she is a great "mentor" for me in many ways. Well, around noon or so, she messaged me needing to cancel. She's come down with a cold and she's supposed to run in a local race this weekend. I told her to get better, and we'd find another time.
My plans for tonight then became this: after teaching my two Thursday fitness classes, I'd go into church and finish up that which I needed to do for Sunday without needing to keep an eye on the clock. After that, I'd come home, take a much-needed shower, throw a frozen pizza in the oven, and do laundry and grade papers. At this point, here's how my evening has gone:
Thursday fitness classes, check. They went well, and I pushed myself because I felt I needed to.
Church work, done. Got what I needed to get done, done, and a couple other things.
Shower, oh yes. It was all I needed and more.
But upon coming out of the shower, I was wrapped in my old trusty bathrobe, hair tied up in a towel. I stopped at the sink to check something in the mirror, and then it happened. I heard a sound I hadn't heard in some time. A sound I never thought I'd hear again. A sound that caused an immediate adrenaline rush, complete with me shaking partly in excitement, and partly in fear. It came from my phone, over on the bed.
It's called "Noir." It is one of the tones that comes standard on the iPhone. And it happens to be the sound I'd assigned to the ex.
I honestly, honestly, honestly thought I would never hear from him again. The last text I got from him, knowing him as well as I do, was really quite final. In spite of the beliefs of my friends, I, in my heart, thought communication was done for good.
Now don't be getting your hopes up. This conversation wasn't him begging for me back. While it mostly felt like our conversations while we were dating, it also felt a little reserved on his end. I can't blame him; the last time we were texting I was prone to irrational reactions. He has no reason to know I've leveled out since then.
He texted to let me know he'd received the gift card in the mail and was texting confirmation at my request. He then asked a somewhat safe but personal question. I replied, thanking him for letting me know, and answered his question. He commented on my answer. I then asked how he was doing and if he was ready for his retreat this weekend. He said he was fine and ready, and about to get on the road. Then what he texted is what has me guardedly optimistic. He concluded that text with TTYL.
TTYL, the texting shortcut for "talk to you later." When he sends that, he means it. If he wants to end a conversation, he says "take care."
I am a professional at grasping at straws. My regular readers know this. So, here are the straws I'm looking at right now:
1. The original text wasn't just a confirmation. It also asked a personal question. If he didn't want to be in communication, he would've just said, "Got the gift card back. Texting confirmation at your request."
2. He answered when I replied. More than once.
3. The TTYL. As I've just mentioned, when he sends that he means it. Which says to me communication is back on.
Still, I'm leaving the ball in his court. I replied to his TTYL text with my own, and I'm leaving it at that. For the time being, communication has been reinstated. I know I won't hear from him before Sunday afternoon; even while we were dating I knew during this retreat he'd be out-of-touch. Just knowing that I really haven't been completely cut off is bringing me some peace. Perhaps we really can make an attempt at friendship, and if that becomes something more, well, so be it.
Until then, at least I now have a fresh texting memory from him that makes me smile instead of cry.
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