Lucky

The best way to celebrate a friend's wedding is not to have a gargantuan fight n a gorgeous hotel room and thus never get to soak in a tub filled with bubbles. Those slut heels were breaking my poor old ankle all night long.

A few days later, coffee with my old boss stretched for three hours, meaning that I finished close to the time when The Boy was due to knock off work. I was within walking distance of his office, so I called, hoping for a lift.

The Boy: "I can't, I've already left. I'm on the highway."
Slinky: "Oh. Okay." Then I register that the beeping noise I heard while he was talking was the sound of is car reversing. Cars do not reverse on the highway. But then, I'm not keen on getting into another fight, I reason that maybe he just doesn't want to wait and we hang up. I shuffle off to the bus stop, feeling hurt and distinctly unloved.

So there I am, waiting at the bus stop and working up a rather spectacular case of self-pity when a familiar car zipped past. Self-pity and the rather tenuous but virtuous resolve not to get into another fight evaporates like morning mist under the blowtorch of furious indignation as I hit the 'Contacts' button my phone.

The unsuspecting Boy: "Hello?"
Slinky: "You're not on the highway."
The Boy: "Hello?"
Slinky: "You lied! You're not on the highway!"
The Boy: "Hello? Hello, hello, hello?"

I am utterly convinced The Boy is using the cheap "My reception is bad thus I can't hear the stuff you're trying to say so I can get out of trouble' ruse, which really chucks the needle into the red. Enraged, I screech into the phone, "You're LYING. You're not on the highway, I just saw you drive past me!"

Miraculously, The Boy's lack of hearing immediately resolves itself. "Where are you?" he asked anxiously.

To my fevered mind, he now sounds somewhat panicky, which acts like an electric goad on a charging bull. "I’m not on the highway!" I snarl, causing several people to shuffle away from me. 'I’m waiting for my BUS!"
The Boy: "Where are you?"
Slinky (now riding the helltrain express to Fury, Irrationality, no stops along the way): "You know, if you didn't want to pick me up, you could have just said so instead of just LYING to me." The Boy tries to get a word in edgewise but short of shooting me, that just wasn't happening. "Oh, and by the way, I HEARD YOUR CAR REVERSING WHEN I CALLED YOU JUST NOW!"
The Boy: "Look, it's not like that. Where are you now? I'll come and pick you up?"
My mood swings from furious to petulant in a flash. Bratty, I know. "No. I'll take a bus."
And then I hang up on him.

This is not one of those stories where I acquit myself gracefully.

My phone rings again and I pick up. It’s The Boy. I’m somewhat surprised. He’s come a long way from the time where he’d just turn off his phone and go somewhere to sulk/fish/smoke. I haven’t though, as the following conversation reveals.

The Boy; "Look, I've turned around. Where are you? I'll come and get you."
Slinky: "I'll take a bus."
The Boy "I've already turned around. Tell me where you are and I'll pick you up."
Slinky. "I’ll take a bus." Childish, yes, I know.

This continues in this vein for a while before he finally tells me, in a voice absolutely reeking of injured dignity, that he reason that he'd lied was because he had gone to Carrefour to buy groceries so he could surprise me with dinner the next day, and he didn't want me in the car because I would see the bags and blow his surprise. I unbent enough to let him know where I am, and after I hang up, it suddenly strikes me as hilarious and I cannot help but burst into laughter when he finally drives up, stiff as board and practically vibrating with indignation that I had utterly and completely ruined a completely adorable surprise.

The dinner was awesome.

When we first celebrated Valentines' Day, The Boy and I had the Teshy beach all to ourselves, with candles in the sand and takeout from our favorite restaurant still warm in our hands as we sat on the picnic mat and stars wheeled overhead. There were blue lights in the sand and he mad me laugh. The next year we went back and some smartarse had obviously thought up the same thing as we had, and must have published it in some nauseating women's magazine with some annoyingly catchy juvenile title like "Top 10 Ways to Celebrate ValentinesWithout Breaking The Bank!!!!!", because there were a gazillion other couples there and zero blue lights. We never went back again. This year, we woke up late and baby lemurs patted our shoes and held on to our fingers while looking imploring at us for more bananas and I surprised him with red velvet cake, and after, what five? Six years? He still makes me laugh.