Things Are Not Going As Planned

There is a Mrs. Fields sugar cookie cake upstairs with "Happy Birthday Justin" written on it in icing. It is just about eleven o'clock, and since I am writing on my laptop, obviously I am not whooping it up for Justin's birthday party at Freddie's.

Basically, Justin is nowhere to be found. His cell phone is going directly to voice mail, and he has not responded to either a voice mail or a text message. I even called his parents' home phone to see if they knew where he was. Happily, I got his mom instead of his dad, and she had no idea where he was, that he had left the house at about nine to come here.

So basically, I am alternately worried and angry. There are several possibilities: He could have decided that he would just go to Freddie's and ditch me, or he could have found something better to do, or his car has broken down, and his battery on his cell phone died. I have no idea. I just hope that I can find out some information so I can either go get him from where he is stranded, or just know that he is all right. And I wonder what the other guests at his party would be thinking since he never showed up.

It doesn't seem like he would just up and ditch me, because he had told me that his mother was cooking dinner and he would be here after that, and his mother knew that he was coming here to my house. So either he is in some sort of danger, or I have been played for the biggest fool on earth for the last year. If he has decided that his birthday was the right day to give me the old heave-ho, then his mother will be just as irate as him as I will be. Basically, if this is the case, I am only out the $30 that the cookie cake cost me. I can return his gift; I have the gift receipt, and I can always use the money I spent to buy two weeks' worth of lunches for work.

Of course, I will also be out the time I invested in the past year with this relationship. And I will have to start all over again. 

So I really don't know what to do at this point. So I threw a load of laundry into the washer. It seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. At least I can have clean khakis hanging dry while I sit and stew.

I hope to have an answer to this mystery in my next entry. Until then...

Eric Out.