Flake

Last week I attempted to be a functioning social human again and replied to Leslie, the girl I met in group therapy who I haven’t seen since April (pre-Oz). She has texted me for months saying she still has my birthday present from May, and she wanted to see Wicked: For Good. I said yes, sent her the showtimes, and she replied immediately, “I’m in! 7pm! I’m so excited!” That was at noon. At 4pm she called while I was on the phone with someone else, and when I didn’t answer she sent balloon emojis. At 5:30, I texted asking if we should meet early at BJ’s so we could actually talk beforehand since you can’t at a movie. No reply. At 6:30, I texted again: please tell me you’re on your way. Nothing. Any reasonable adult would’ve bailed, but of course I thought, “If I don’t go and she shows up, then I’m the flaky one.” So I drove to the theater. At 7:08 I texted, “Where are you?” Silence. At 7:20, more texts. Still nothing. At 7:21, I finally said, “I’m out,” and left. Then at 7:37 she texted, “Hi Erik, I was helping my parents put together a closet.” A closet. Right during the exact plans she said she was so excited about. I typed a novel of rage-texts but didn’t send them. Progress, I guess. The next morning, instead of apologizing, she texted, “I don’t know what or where BJ’s is.” Girl… you live here. If you don’t know what BJ’s is, I can’t help you. I tried. I truly did. But I officially give up.