Busy Boy

I had been chatting online with a guy every night for about a week. We both work in the same field, and live on the same side of the city, so I was looking forward to talking in person. We agreed to meet up for drinks one night after work. He selected the restaurant, and agreed to pick me up because my apartment was on the way.
When he arrived, 45 minutes late, he asked if I could think of anywhere with faster service since he was hungry and really needed something to eat. I threw out a couple alternatives, both of which he made faces at. He then sighed exaggeratedly deep and said, “You know, this just isn’t fair to you. I only have about a half an hour to spare and you’d spend it watching me eat. I’d rather devote, like, two hours to you some other time. If you get what I mean. It’s not you! I promise. I’m just really busy.”
Needless to say, I didn’t get what he meant. He could have canceled at any point during the day. “You’re mad, aren’t you?” he asked. I replied with a “yes” as I walked back into my building.


