Just not that into me

I got stood up. This weekend, actually. Yeah, it was a date, of sorts. You know the kind: I bring my kids, you bring yours. Somewhere between the yelling and the wild antics, we'll pretend to have a "grown-up" conversation, then we'll wipe up the mess, pay for damages, and go our separate ways.

It was a once-postponed date, already. One that we had moved on by two weeks, five minutes before we were supposed to meet. I should have taken the hint then, I guess. Silly me! Trying so hard to be pleasant and accommodating.

We moved the date, true. It seemed like it would work out better for both of us that way, anyhow. The day before, I felt uneasy. I sent a message and got an appalling silence in return. And still, I refused to believe that I could be getting the boot. What? Me? But I'm so nice! As nice as a chilled mocha latte on a cloudy summer afternoon. Of course they want to meet with me.

On the day, I tried again. No response. My skull must be thicker than most, because the message just wasn't getting through. It did, however, permeate my cognition, when the date came and went. Just like that. The time, the venue, ignored in the heat of the day. It passed - as though it never happened. Well, it did never happen, but it was like it never did happened in the way of something that was never going to happen.

Ok.

Message received. Loud and clear. In a language I am not all too familiar with, but the cyber gestures assure me of the meanings. I think.

Sigh.

I am a nice person. Really.