And from the Ashes Rises the Phoenix

So just when I have convinced myself that I should make some other plans for the weekend, I get a text from Mac at about 9:30 that night.

He'd better start paying attention.  At this point he should be in full on flirtation mode if he expects Miss Congeniality to answer the door.

"Liza - sorry to be out of touch.  I going through a particularly grueling period at work and I am exhausted. I don't think travel is an option this weekend. NY or FL."

Score one for Liza. Called it way in advance. I must be psychic.

And incredulously, he continues.

"But I am very excited to see you, Liza, so how about we go out to dinner on Saturday night?"

There is a part of me that would rather douse myself in gasoline and strike a match but I push myself. Mr. Wonderful will not find me if I sit at home in my flannels watching Sandra Bullock movies.

I cheerfully reply. "No problem, Mac. Dinner sounds great."

And it sounds like far fewer hours of torture at this point.  Although I don't love the idea of going out to dinner. Too sedentary. Not enough socializing.  I can't focus on eating that long and I doubt that Mac is a charming enough date for me to be able to keep my food down.

I text Rocky.

"Saved by the bell. Mac had a heinous week.  Doesn't want to travel. Going to dinner instead."

"Good! Ethical dilemma solved!"

And another text from Mac. "I'll make a reservation tomorrow. Too tired to call now."

I get it. You're pooped. Who isn't?

"Put the phone down, Mac. Go to bed."  More importantly, stop texting me and vanish for a while.

But he replies. "No. I am watching the news in my La-Z-Boy."

OMG he did not just admit to having a La-Z-Boy!  He may as well have just said that he was watching the wrestling with his thumb up his ass for as appealing as that made him. 

Dread sets in. I do not reply. I text Rocky instead.