People are idiots and will never cease to amaze me. Start at Friday ...no... Thursday. Thursday night. I was up until 4am Friday working on a couple web pages I had to upload for Eric. Alarm went off at 8:30. Train to Greenwich. Got back to the city after 5pm. I wanted to call Ariel and hang out but she was gone. It was raining and I didn't have my umbrella. I was almost soaked by the time I got another one at the Duane Reade near Eric's office. The rain was spiteful and stopped the minute I stepped outside. I dropped by the office for a bit and then headed downtown. I was on a quest to find tall bamboo and the perfect vase for my room. I found the bamboo but not the vase.

I made plans to meet Edward on Saturday around noon to show him the drawings I had worked on. Or rather the ones I was supposed to work. All week I had been going out of my mind trying to work on them. Getting somewhere on one and then throwing my pencil to the floor and tearing the sheet of paper until the pieces were to small to get a hold of. There was no way I was prepared to see him so I emailed him and asked that we meet later on Saturday or Sunday.

I should've called him earlier than I did but I let most of Saturday pass by. Right after calling and having him reluctantly agree to meet on Sunday at noon instead and email popped up from him saying how irresponsible I was by not calling him sooner. I stayed up until 6am Sunday working on drawings I finally felt were good enough after almost a week of random sketching and shredding perfectly good paper. I set my alarm clock for 10:30 and went to sleep.

I called Edward when I got up, just before my shower. I got his machine and left a message saying I was just calling to confirm the meeting. He didn't call back. I thought he would have. I got ready and contemplated whether to have breakfast or not since we probably would've gone out to get something at a diner.

11:30. I drank grapefruit juice and listened to Bjork.

12:00. I sat straight up at my desk expecting the buzzer to go off or the phone ring.

12:15. Well maybe he's just running a little late. Unlike him but ok.

12:30. I sat and ate Rice Crispies while chatting with friends online and listening to more Bjork. I checked to make sure the phone was on 'ringer on' and not 'battery save'.

1:10. I checked for voicemail. Nothing. Then I called Edward's house. His boyfriend answered dryly (as he always does) and handed the phone to him.

"Hello?"

"Hi?" my eyes were wide and searched my room as if the person on the other end was actually hiding somewhere. One of my closets perhaps. "How are you?"

"I was fine about an hour ago when waited outside for you. I'm not so fine now."

"You were downstairs? Why didn't you call?"

"We agreed on noon, Angel Boi."

The rest of the talk was brief and ended with him saying he'd work on the drawings himself and I could keep the money he paid me. He hung up. I was instantly pissed. 'Eyes-turn-red' pissed. I thought back at myself hunched over paper on my bed, then floor, then desk several hours before.

I couldn't understand why he waited in his car for a half an hour or however long and didn't call me. He has a cell phone. And if he forgot it and my number -he only lives five or so minutes away- he could've turned back to get both. There's never been a time that he came over to get me that he didn't call from out front. I have never been seen outside waiting for him or anybody else for that matter. My apartment is at the back of the building so there was no way for me to see him pull up and then run down excitedly to meet him.

And then the fact that he didn't call when he got home. I called him. Ok, I can understand that he was too pissed off to call when he got back home. Nothing can make me understand why he didn't call from downstairs though. I personally and maybe arrogantly think it was silly of him to expect me to be waiting downstairs for him. Especially since it's something that has never happened.

I spent the rest of the day listening to music and talking (trying hard not to rant) to friends online. Every now and then I'd glance down at the folder with the drawings that awaited Edward's approval. The folder moved from my bed to the lightbox scattered pencils on the floor after he hung up.

Gary came over that night. I wanted to the 'The Sopranos' with him but Mark came home earlier than I expected. He called (unlike Edward earlier) when he was outside my building and I ran downstairs to drive around with him to find parking. We found a spot near North Hudson park. I turned to open my door. Gary reached out for me. I looked back and he smiled. I went into him and we kissed. Then again. Then again. Then he was halfway over to my side of the car. His hands ran under my shirt, up over my stomach. I needed air.

"What's gotten into you?" I smiled.

"I dunno. I think it's your haircut."

I told him we didn't have to go home right away since Mark was there anyway. We drove around a little until we found a dark parking lot next to a mini-golf course. We smiled. I giggled and ran my hands over his shoulders. Then down his arms. He likes my touch anywhere but for some reason he seems to really like when I run my fingers over his biceps. We stayed there in the parking lot making out -every now and then looking to see anyone walking to the car- for a while until the windows fogged up. Highly excited by the possibility of being caught. Near orgasm by Gary's kiss and hands on the small of my back. We left, found another parking spot and walked to my apartment. I ranted about the Edward situation the whole way and agreed with Gary that I'd email him when we got home.

I read Edward's reply to my email this morning. I scanned it and then read it to Gary. He opened saying it was nice of me to take responsibility for my irresponsibility and then pretty much refused to get past the fact that I wasn't downstairs waiting for him yesterday.

In my email last night I apologized yet again for not calling him earlier Saturday. I did not apologize for not being downstairs Sunday. I told him how hard I worked on the drawings and how much I awaited his approval. That creativity doesn't always come on command. I pointed out the fact that we've never met outside my building without him calling first when he got here. I told him that even though he decided to do the drawings himself, I still wanted him to see what I worked on.

He was pretty snarky in his reply, actually. Unnecessary sarcasm (which I hate more when I'm being sincere). And after saying how irresponsible I was a few more times, he ended the email saying he had a meeting the next day he wasn't prepared for since he didn't have the illustrations. The email was sent 11:57 pm Sunday.

Gary and I both agreed that if the drawings were that important to him, he would have called me instead of waiting in his car that Sunday or at least call when he got back home and yell at me. At first I felt really bad and even though he said to keep the money, I planned somehow to pay him back. After reading his email this morning I didn't feel bad anymore.

"And if creativity does come on command like he said in his reply then he could easily have done those drawings before his meeting today," I got up from my chair and went over to Gary on my bed.

We stayed in bed late until in an almost panic over getting towed from the parking spot, we got up, showered and caught a bus to the car. Breakfast at a diner, quick stop back to the apartment for me to ditch my denim jacket for my red full-zippered fleece and we headed into the city.

Early last week Gary and I were talking online and I mentioned that we hardly go out. He read my mind and suggested we go to a museum today. We talked about it last Saturday night as well. That was a night I was frustrated with a lot of things and his work schedule didn't help. He had today off but was still expected to show up for a meeting. And of course job comes over me and it upset me more than I probably should've let it. I ended the chat abruptly and went to bed. He emailed me, calling me on the way I logged out and said that the work meeting was off so we should go to the Metropolitan of the Guggenheim.

The Met was closed. The Guggenheim was cool. I'd never been. It was really nice walking around with Gary. We're both not the type to stand there and try to explain what the artist was thinking or trying to convey. I like standing behind people who do that and think to myself Bullshit. My friend Bill works at MoMA and he once told me about this time he was standing with someone behind some people and listened to them go on and on about what the artist was probably feeling. And what the artist, 'he' was trying to convey. Bill was actually standing with the artist. A woman. And when the know-it-all was finished, the artist pretty much told them that she actually wasn't feeling that way at all.