Real

Okay so apparently, its easier to write this blog during the week than it is on the weekend. As you can tell from my previous post, Saturday was a not a day for writing. And Sunday, I didn't even attempt to pour my words through my fingertips.



If he still reads he's gonna kill me, but I spoke with Hustle on Saturday. We've been engaged in a game of phone/IM/text tag, and finally we spoke for damn near 3 hours. That's one of the things I love about he and I. We don't have to speak everyday but when we do, there is such a natural ebb and flow to the conversation its damn near effortless.



But on Saturday, he rendered me speechless. He informs me that he won't make any of the birthday festivities to which I've invited him. And of course, I immediately get an attitude. "WHATCHUMEANYOU'RENOTCOMING?"



If you know me, or have been reading this for a while, you know my birthday is the most important holiday on the calendar. And yes, I said holiday. I really truly from the bottom of my heart believe my birthday should be a national holiday - complete with a day off from work, a parade and an insane sale. But I digress.



Initially, he tried to laugh it off with jokes about forgetting my birthday (blasphemy) and not noticing that he wasn't around. I was buying it. "WHATCHUMEANYOU'RENOTCOMING?"

"I'm having surgery the day before."

I fumbled and dropped the phone. In that instant it took me to catch the phone before it dropped, I was dumbfounded. Surgery. WHATCHUMEANSURGERY

He laughed and joked about how I thought of him as invincible. He's right. This is the man who accosted me by the bathroom at a club during my darkest hour and forced me to dance the night away and laugh when I didn't think I could. This is the man who rescued me from the demons I struggled with after the end of my toxic relationship. WHATCHUMEANSURGERY

While respecting his privacy, I will say its not major surgery, an outpatient procedure where he can leave once he comes out from under the anesthesia. But still its surgery. I tried to remain calm on the telephone but he could tell I was FREAKING OUT. I should have been reassuring him that he's going to be fine but he was the one reassuring me.

After a few awkward moments, the conversation returned to the normal ebb and flow. I looked at the clock and realized I was supposed to be somewhere 2 hours earlier. For the first time ever, getting off the phone with each other felt awkward. Usually one of us makes a snide comment (him) to which the other (me) responds and then we both laugh, never saying "Goodbye."

For the past couple of days this has been on my mind. When I arrived at my friends house, I tried to push it out of my mind and enjoy some rum punch with my girls, but it kind of sat there right next to me on the sofa. When my phone suffered a temporary battery cardiac arrest and died (as in I needed a battery transplant), I thought of not being able to get in touch with him. I'm keenly aware of not being in touch with him, when normally he and I can go weeks without speaking on the phone.

To everyone looking in, we have the strangest relationship - something out of a novel or a TV show (shit one of my friends call us Carrie and Big). But suddenly, one little world have thrown us into reality. Surgery.