In my very first entry here in this diary of mine, I wrote about meeting someone new, and realizing that I’m developing some pretty intense feelings for this new person, and how bad that is because I’m really bad at love. I do not handle love well at all – the emotions are too intense for me, I fall way too hard, and shit blows up and goes down in flames.
On Friday night, Mason saw my crazy.
For those who haven’t read my previous entries: I met Mason about ten weekends ago at one of my favorite watering holes, a local sports bar. We drank all night, I went back to his hotel room for a crazy drunk hook-up, we went out for breakfast the next day and ever since then we’ve seen each other Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Seriously. It sounds like a lot but we just really hit it off. And the only reason as to why we don’t see each other Tuesday through Thursday is because Mason is in the process of moving to my town from his little podunk town that’s 140 miles East of here. He’s self-employed and has a few clients that he’s still working for in his hometown, so he goes back during the week to wrap up those jobs. He’s also struggling to find a place to rent around here, as the pickings are slim.
Plus he was in party mode for the first six weeks that he was here…
Anyway, I became very used to hearing from Mason every Friday as soon as he got into town. Last Friday he told me that he was going to drive into town and spend the night at his buddy Noah’s house because once he hooks up with Noah they drink literally all night long.
I got that text from Mason somewhere around four in the afternoon. He told me that he was just climbing into his truck, and that he’d text me when he was back in town.
That didn’t happen.
Eight pm rolled around. I was drinking with my bestie, Tessa. We had four beers and Ubered home. That’s our usual Friday night ritual, seeing as we both get out of work at three pm on Friday so we can hit up our favorite Happy Hour.
I texted Mason. Told him that I was out with Tess and I hoped that he got to town safely.
Tess and I decided to go to another bar for a couple more drinks with a couple of her friends. Two hours later it was ten pm. I hadn’t heard from Mason.
This is so embarrassing, but…..I tripped out. Big time. I immediately started thinking that something bad happened: was he in an accident? Is he in the hospital? Is he in jail? Is he out with another girl? Is he really so caught up with his buddy that he can’t take two seconds to text him? I miss him. This is weird. I’m worried. What if he was in an accident???
Seriously, folks. I just can’t seem to get a fucking grip on my emotions.
I totally flooded Mason’s phone with texts. A text telling him that I was out drinking with Tess, and that we were Ubering so we could catch a buzz and not worry about it. A text asking him if everything was okay. A text that Tess and I went to a third bar where one of her friends bought us a Purple Hooter shot. Another text asking him what he’s up to. A flirty drunk text, offering him a bj. Another text stating that I really hoped that he was okay.
….God, this is so embarrassing. I lost my shit. I couldn’t stop myself. I was obsessed. I was worried. I worked myself up, big time.
At two in the morning I was very drunk, and I sent Mason a text stating that I didn’t appreciate being ignored. I accusing him of “cooling off”, and told him that I was really confused. Then, another text, this one stating that I understood if he doesn’t want to see me anymore because I know he doesn’t want a girlfriend, and I was clearly way too attached to him.
Then I finally passed out.
The next day I got a phone call from Mason. He almost never calls, he’s usually a texter. It was ten am. My head was pounding, I had cotton mouth from hell, I still felt a little buzzed and when I rolled over to grab my phone and answer it, my stomach lurched.
I was hungover. Big time.
Mason immediately asked me if I was okay. I told him, yeah, I was, but I was pretty hungover. He told me that he had one of the worst hangovers of his entire life, because he drank an entire twenty-four pack of Bud Lite and spent the night getting up every hour or so to puke and drink water, sleep for an hour, get sick again, drink more water.
“Holy fuck, Mason – I can’t believe you didn’t poison yourself!” I blurted out.
“Me, neither,” he replied. “I scared myself, though. When I woke up today and saw exactly how much I drank…I was like…man….that’s suicide…”
“Are you sure your buddy didn’t split that case with you?”
“I’m positive. He’s a die hard Natural Ice fan. He drank a twenty-four pack of that shit.”
“…you guys…what the actual fuck?”
“I’ll never do it again,” Mason told me. “Ever. But, look, I was so drunk that I didn’t realize my phone battery died until I woke up a few minutes ago, checked my phone and it was dead.”
Suddenly, I was very much awake. My stomach lurched again, and I grabbed the little garbage can that I keep in my bedroom in case I needed to throw up.
…oh. Oh, no! No. Oh, no. (pause) I blew it. He’s done with me. He saw my crazy and he’s done.
“Ooooh, honey…” I said. “No wonder why you were so quiet!”
“Yeah,” Mason said cooly. He paused, then added, “So, I got your texts.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“All twenty-seven of them,” he added.
“Oh my God I’m so sorry…”
There was a pause. My heart was in my toes. I was dying inside. Tears started running down my cheeks. I felt like hell, and I was dead convinced that I just fucked up one of the greatest opportunities for love that I’ve ever had.
“Yoooou….you said a lot, Sweetie,” Mason said carefully.
“I know,” I sniffled. “I’m so sorry. I was really drunk, and you said you’d text me when you were in town, and you didn’t. So I sent you a text, and you didn’t reply. You didn’t reply all night. And I was drunk. And…I…clearly, lost my mind.”
“It’s okay, Sweetie,” Mason said gently.
“I swear I didn’t mean to be such a jerk, I didn’t mean to tell you that you cooled off or changed,” I rambled on.
“Hey, Cass, hey,” Mason said gently. “Stop.”
“I just, like you so much…maybe too much, and that’s so not fair to you because you made it clear from the beginning that you don’t want a girlfriend, but then we started spending all this time together and I just-“
Mason barked at me. I was so shocked that I jumped a little. I immediately stopped crying.
“Yes, Mason?” I asked.
“Baby…please…it’s okay,” Mason said, back to being gentle again. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m not mad. I’m not mad!”
“Even though I said way too much?” I asked.
“You didn’t, though,” he replied. “I haven’t said enough.”
“What do you mean?” I frowned. Mason took a deep breath and said,
“Look, first of all, I told you that I’d text you when I was back in town, and I didn’t. I saw my buddy, he threw me a beer the second I set foot out my truck, we literally shot-gunned a beer right there in his driveway and the drinking was on. That was an asshole thing to do. I should have text you before I even set foot out the truck so you’d know that I was in town and at my buddy’s house, safe and sound.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. “I forgive ya.”
“That was my bad,” Mason continued. “But…honey…I’m so sorry that I got you so upset. The fact that you freaked out on me – and man, did you ever freak the fuck out on me!”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured.
“It’s okay! I was totally taken by surprise, but…after I read all your texts, first I felt terrible for making you feel so upset, then I was so touched, because you care. You’d never freak out like that if you didn’t care about me.”
“I care very much about you.”
“And I care about you, too! But…I don’t think I’ve been telling you what’s on my mind. Like I’ve been sending mixed signals. And I’m sorry for that.”
He asked me if I’d go see him at the hotel that he stays at. I told him that I was seriously hungover. He said that he was, too, and that we could just lay in the dark, air conditioned room and talk to each other and try to sleep off our hangovers.
And that’s exactly what we did. Long story short: we’re “just friends” for now, but that’s only because Mason needs to take things slowly. He told me that he’s open to us actually being in a serious, monogamous relationship, but that he’s going to need to move really, really slowly.
He told me that he has a lot of feelings for me, and that right now it scares him because he wasn’t, at all, expecting to feel this way about someone ever again.
He told me things that soothed me, and reassured me.
He took it a step further and said things that made me swoon.
No, he didn’t tell me that he loves me. He doesn’t. Not yet.
But we’re in a really sweet place right now.
He asked me if he could come to my house next week and make dinner for myself and my parents, to show us all how awesome he is with a barbecue. It’s a good thing I was laying down when he said that, or I would’ve fallen right over in shock.
“…are you, sure?” I asked.
“I am,” he said softly. “I might be hungover, but I’m sober. And after I saw your epic meltdown I thought, man, I need to stop dickin’ around and show this girl that I’m sincere about her. So, if you’d like, I’d love to make dinner for you and your parents.”
“…what if I told you that I haven’t brought a man home to the house in over ten years?”
“Then I’d be that much more honored to meet them,” Mason replied.
And so, I accepted his offer.
We spent all of Saturday together, nursing hangovers and laughing at how stupid we both were for drinking way, way, way too much. He went back to his hometown and spent Easter Sunday with his sister, much to my surprise. I was glad to see Mason do that – hopefully he’s patching things up with his family.
He won’t be back until Friday. But when we parted ways this morning with kiss after kiss after kiss, Mason promised that he would text me as soon as he got back into town.
He better. He’s seen my crazy, now. He probably never wants to see it again. :/