Mr. Finance (MF) was the guy who two weeks ago said he wanted to take me to Four. He wanted to go wine tasting in the Hamptons & to some fancy restaurant out there. He said, like oh so many, that he'd call. Well, in two weeks, he called twice. Once was at 1:24 am & the other at 11:30pm. That's calling? I don't think so.
I called him on my way to work at 12:00. Here's how it went:
MF: Hey! What's going on? How ya doin'? (as if we talk everyday for six months)
Me: Hi. I am good. Can I ask you a big favor?
MF: Sure. What is it?
Me: Would you please delete my number from your phone? I'd really appreciate it.
MF: What?
Me: Yeah, well, you said you'd call. You said you'd set up one of the many great-sounding
dates. You didn't. You finally called me at 1:24 am & 11:30 pm? That's a booty call.
That's a two-bit hooker call. Of which I am neither.
MF: I am so sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I should have called.
Me: Well, whether you meant it that way or not, that's what it said. When you are interested in
a woman, you call her at normal times & set up dates. You know you intended it to let me
know that it was going to be for one purpose only.
MF: I am so sorry. I am so sorry. Yes. I should have called. I'll delete your number. I am so
sorry.
Me: Okay. Great. Thanks so much! Have a good one!
And, that's about the size of it.
