To be completely fair before I get started, I can be fairly bitchy.
After dinner, I really liked the Protestant-turned-Catholic-turned-Agnostic. However, the following morning he sent me a text message that started with “Heya Senorita.” This might have been endearing if I had not been at home sick again. I tell him this and he replies with “Aww did I make you sick again? =(“ Make me sick again? I don’t think I follow… I was sick on Wednesday and I am still sick today. Then at 9pm a question about indie music and cellos (which I do love both, but I’m at home sick and could use some non texting time). Then at 12:30am “What are you up to?” Probably still being sick, back off. And again at 1:12am “What a great concert. Youre asleep I assume?” No, I thought it would be fun to take my projectile vomit out on the town… of course I’m asleep. Then Saturday more texting and asking if I’m going out (again because he doesn’t understand sick). And Sunday more texting. Monday more texting. Tuesday more texting. Wednesday more texting. Thursday more texting. Friday more texting… and he’s decided to ride a tricycle at the tweed ride. Saturday more texting… then a call. I tell him I am at the vet and I will need to talk to him later. He hangs up and texts some more. Then he asks to borrow my bike. I tell him that’s fine and I’ll just bring it with me on Sunday. He wants to be helpful “I’ll come pick it up.” No, that wouldn’t make any sense since it will fit in my car and you are texting too much and I don’t want you to know where I live.
So here we are… Sunday. I call him, he doesn’t answer. He texts almost immediately. Because I didn’t text him back last night to tell him (again) that I would bring the bike, he has made other plans but is canceling them and heading toward Dallas. My downstairs bathroom floods, the dog is sick, I snap at my undeserving brother because he’s the only person around and then I head toward Dallas. PtCtA is texting. I tell him where we are unloading the bikes. He can’t find us. I see him standing less than 100 yards away. I don’t have the energy to tell him he’s looking right at us.
He stands idly by as my brother airs up the tires, puts wheels back on the bikes, etc. He doesn’t speak… doesn’t help… just watches.
We get ready just in time and join the group as they ride by us. PtCtA is complaining about the bike. I’m sure the issue stems from the bike being taken apart so it and two other bikes would fit in my car. I ignore the complaints and continue to pedal. Endorphins start to course through my body and my mood is already improving. I hear a crash behind me. I glance around. Brother… check. Athena (in a good way)… check. PtCtA… hmmm... MIA.
So PtCtA is MIA and my phone starts vibrating. You’ll never guess… it’s a text. He has wrecked the cruiser and says he will meet us at the car. So, I cannot finish the Tweed Ride with the group, I must cut the lop short and head back to my car where PtCtA is nowhere to be found. He is lost. Lost because we parked on Ross and he wrecked on Ross and something about that was confusing. So my brother walks to the corner and waves him in like airport employee in neon orange protection and a vest. Then as we work on the cruiser and load up the car, PtCtA stands idly by. He doesn’t speak… doesn’t help… just watches.
I ask if he wants to meet us at the bar. My brother, Athena (in a good way), and I head back out on our bikes to catch up with the group. When we arrive at Eno’s in Oak Cliff PtCtA is standing alone waiting. Then he sits beside me while I eat a cheese plate (because I love cheese) and doesn’t talk. Then we part ways. At this point I’ve decided I would rather ride Messenger Bag... I mean ride with Messenger Bag… he’s so cute.