"So that's my story, What's yours?"

Like I said, I wasn't excited to hang out with Derek. Friday, I tried emailing him early in the day to see if maybe he would come out here, I didn't want to make the drive. (I just realized with gas and tolls it costs me around $8 every time I go into Philly.)

Well he never called and said he'd come, so I took a nap after work to try to untired myself, and give him a little more time to possibly call and say he'll come my way instead. No luck. I called before I left saying to his voicemail "Either you didn't get my message, or you didn't want to come, so I'll be there in a bit."

When I got there, NOBODY WAS HOME! I knew he was expecting me, but I was a little worried that maybe he did go to my place and forgot that he didn't tell me. So I walked around the building, and his car was still there. So I went back to his door again. Maybe he was sleeping - knocked on his window - nothing. I waited in my car for about ten minutes, trying to decide what to do. Went back to his door for one last try, and it began to rain. I sat down on his porch and thought about how much longer I would wait before leaving. Soon, I felt the pressure of a door opening, and saw lights flick on. (I enter from his back door, as you can't get to his front door without key access to the building, and the call buttons to let you in don't work.)

There was Derek, in shorts and a Tshirt, sweating and breathing hard. He had gone running. (He does that whenever the weather's decent.) "I thought you were coming later," says he. We had discussed 6 or 7. It was a quarter after 7.

I come inside and his phone rings. It's his friend - and he talks to him, ignoring me, for what seems like forever. I lay on his couch, read a little, and then attempt to pretend to take another nap. He talks, goes to him room to talk and change, and talks more on the phone. Finally, he gets off and says "sorry." He then goes on to tell me a synopsis of the story of his day up to that very moment, I honestly don't remember what he said, except for that he ended with "so that's my story, what's yours?" So - I tell him my story, including not wanting to drive out there, and then feeling stood up, and then feeling ignored. I smile. It was nice to let him know how I felt. He smiles and says, "Good, we're all caught up then."

From then on out for the rest of the night, he's back to the guy that makes me like him. Dinner is just my style - simple, healthy... and he lights a little scented candle and dims his lights with a giggles (we're eating finger food right off the serving plates on a card table). "I do have dimming lights! We can have a candle light dinner," he says.

We eat, he puts in the movie we planned to watched. ("Gigantic: A tale of two Johns"... a documentary of They Might Be Giants.) He turns off the light and we're on the couch. I lean on his shoulder, the same way I do with all guy friends who a)do not have a girlfriend/wife or b)like me too much and I don't want to lead them on.

HE begins the tickling and the flirting and slightly extends the lenghth of time holding hands while keeping my hands away from being able to tickle him back.

So then we get ice cream, listen to some CD's - and I drive the long stretch home late at night. We both lost track of time and were surprised at how late it was. "No wonder I'm tired" he says and I think. I do not give him, nor do I try for a goodbye hug. I just leave.

And I'm angry. Not Angry-angry, just angry.
I don't want to like him. It's not fair that I should decide not to like him and then he treats me like he does and I can't help liking him. Grrrrrrr