I woke up freakishly early this morning because there was construction happening right outside my window. And it started at 7:00 AM. On my to-do list today: buy earplugs.
Noise aside, waking up early as opposed to my usual routine hitting the snooze button until the last possible minute and then speed-showering and running around my apartment trying to locate things is kind of nice. I made coffee in my pajamas, and then sat at the kitchen table with my laptop. My intention was to quickly check my email and then read some news, but that plan got shot to hell when I saw I had an email from Brandon.
To: K.
From: Brandon
Subject: Bygones
K.,
I'm sorry I was such a dick to you Saturday night. It was uncalled for.
- Brandon
I immediately started typing up a response, telling him that it WAS called for, and that he every right to be angry at me, and how sorry I am for everything, and how incredibly selfish and stupid I was, and how I know I'll never be able to make it up to him, and how I don't want him to hate me
and then in the middle of my typing my completely long-winded, stream of consciousness missive, he sent me a gchat.
Brandon: Hey
Me: hey. i was just writing you an email.
Brandon: I feel like a jerk.
Me: i do too. i'm sorry. for everything. i can't stand the idea of you being angry at me. or hating me.
Brandon: I don't hate you. Sometimes I wish I did. But I don't.
Me: but you are angry.
Brandon: Yes.
Me: what can i do?
Brandon: Nothing.
Me: i hate that i can't fix this.
Brandon: You didn't break it alone. I helped.
Started typing, then stopped. I did it a few times. I could see that he was doing the same. Finally, I gave up because I didn't know what to say next, and waited for him.
Brandon: I just need time, K. I need to work through a lot of stuff. And I can't have you coming up to me acting like nothing ever happened and everything's cool between us. Because it's not.
Me: i get that.
Brandon: Good. I'm gonna go now. I have work to do.
Me: okay. bye.
He signed off without saying goodbye. I wanted to finish my email and send it, so he'd know how badly I felt, but I didn't. He didn't want to hear any of it, right now, and if I did, it would be for me, not for him. A way of making myself feel better, while making him feel worse. And I don't want to be that person anymore.
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Bedroom BlogK. is Cosmo's fictional blogger, a twenty-something chick who works in television. Here K. dishes about her sexy (and sometimes dramatic) dating adventures.
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