What to Do, What to Do?

I almost respond a few times. But I don't.

The truth is, a month earlier, this would have been the text I hoped beyond hope that I'd receive. A ray of hope that maybe my life would be restored to order. A chance to talk. To ask questions, to get answers. Maybe we'd get back together.

But too much time had gone by. Too much water over the dam.  I had had a million things I'd wanted to say and a thousand questions I'd wanted to ask. And now I just don't know.

Two months is a long time. Holidays went by.  There were events in my life that I navigated alone. I had all of those conversations I'd wanted to have with Scott with my friends and with myself.  Scott threw me into the deep end of the pool and let me figure out on my own that I could swim.  I paddled around in the swill of a wrecked relationship and eventually got my legs under me.  I spent some time with myself and with my most dreaded thoughts and fears. Wallowed. Listened to morose music. Talked through the most raw parts of the days that followed Scott's vanishing act.  And I forgave.

But I did feel like I had to tell My Date that he'd texted. It was Scott's disappearance that had brought all my friends and neighbors and acquaintances running to my side. I'd learned so much about the decency and kindness of people.

I told him matter of factly. I told him I'd be an idiot to let Scott have one more minute of my life to toy with. He said he must be an idiot based on his personal experience with me.

It felt good to disclose. It felt like a mature, thoughtful thing to do early on in any potential relationship. It was nice to hear that My Date thought Scott was a moron to walk away from me.

I just don't want there to be any doubt that my relationship with Scott is not completely in the past. No games. No nonsense. No maybes. Not. This. Time.