To Whom It May Concern

So all this time, while we've chatted about Mac and his Royal Assholery, and J.'s girls and their sweet, tender bruised lives, we've not chatted about Craig.

And has bobbed to the surface throughout the whole ordeal.

Not a consistent presence, but certainly enough to keep me on a tether.  And keep me interested.

A guy at work gives me a pair of green wool gloves that say "Drinking Gloves" and have a shamrock on them and have the fingers cut off. They are designed for tailgating or pub crawling.  I send a picture of them to Craig, who thinks they are cool. I offer to get him a pair and invite him to pub crawl on St. Pat's.  He's going to work on that.

And later in the week he finds that he can't, but he's been in touch enough that I know that he would if he could, he just can't. He is going to be in town on business earlier in that week and suggests we get together.  I have my kids and can't make it.  Our timing is terrible. It's the story of the divorced parents' life. Kids first. Your love life on ice.

And then then my worst fears come roaring to life.

Well not my worst fears, just one that gives me the vapors.

I send a text to Charlotte one night when I should have put down either the phone or the wine hours earlier. Tell her I need to catch her up on the dating fiascoes and mention that Craig is still in the picture and that I
"A.Dore.Him." Just like that. Emphasis on A-dore. Send.

Send to Craig instead of Charlotte.

Am immediately in a flop sweat and wishing there was a 30 second delay where you could recall bad texts provided you come to your senses in the 30 second window.

No such luck.

I immediately send a followup text to Craig.

"Well THAT wasn't meant for you!  Intended for my sister."

"Nice try," he says.

And what follows for the next 10 minutes is a back and forth about what exactly I meant by dating fiascoes (I explain Mac) and that I do indeed adore him, and that that is the honest truth.  I am trying to be cheerful in my texts. What I want to write is a suicide note.

Or vanish. Vanishing would be good.