I had a terrible weekend and the terribleness is persisting.

I texted him on Friday to tell him I wanted to talk to him. It was in the middle of the work day and I asked him to call me when he could. I never expected him not to call me. So I spent the day and the evening and even part of the next morning wondering if he was going to call. Then I spent the rest of the time feeling bad because he didn't call.

Why did I call him in the first place? Good question, but if you know me at all you know that I can't leave well enough alone. I wanted to keep it going. I thought I wanted to tell him two things. One was that I have done something positive as a result of all the negative stuff between us and I wanted to encourage him to do the same thing. The other was to tell him that I still believe in him, and that I hoped he still believed in me. I honestly didn't think he wouldn't want to talk to me. That hurts. It's understandable and it's fair -- but it hurts nonetheless. It is the ultimate in rejection and abandonment, and I guess it's what I need in order to stop obsessing eventually. Ouch.

My thought after he didn't call was that I could mail him a letter, telling him what I want to tell him. I am going to work on it tonight and see what George thinks tomorrow.

This is after I meet the 52 year old Internet date tonight. 52? That's really reaching.