About two months ago, I had a conversation with a certain someone on the East Coast. He mentioned he would be coming home for Thanksgiving and inquired if I might have time to see him while he was in town. I said yes.
About three weeks ago, I had a conversation with the same certain someone and he asked me again. I politely (for me) reminded him that we had that conversation before and that I recalled answering him. Did he, by chance, remember that? He said yes; he was just checking to be sure. I suggested he might want to find a better way to check rather than ask the question like it had never been asked (or answered) before.
I stopped him last night when he started to ask again. "Jeebus," I exclaimed, my fuse lit in a way only he can ignite. "Have we not solidified these plans twice now?" He confirmed we had, he was just checking. Again. "Seriously," I said, my eyes rolling so far back a contact was momentarily stuck, "if you ask me again, the answer will be no." He asked if we could change the subject.
Now, in all fairness, I can understand (as I'm sure you do) why he's probably keeping our date in pencil. Thanksgiving is still weeks away. Things could easily go pear-shaped between now and then. Our history, after all, has been a tad turbulent. The last date we had ended with a row in the back of a cab. Kind of hard to play make-up with three-thousand miles between you. So I do get the air of caution he's taking. But, criminy. He's a clever man. I'm confident he could inquire in another manner. Or just simply take me at my word since I'm not the kind to be flip about my calendar. It's Tiffany. I don't like eraser droppings in it let alone black ink exes marking the spot of a botched plan. I know that schedules are constantly in flux and that we end up overbooking ourselves. I respect and appreciate a secondary confirmation, but not as a repeat proposal. What girl would?
It took me a good ten minutes on our call to lessen my irritation. "You know," he said, "I think it's kind of cute when you chide me." He was lucky those three-thousand miles were there as a buffer, or it would have been a long cab ride home.