Last Night Part Two:

S.O. didn’t answer his phone when I called him. I remembered when we first started dating this made me really upset. I thought he didn’t care. Silly woman.
I knew he had a paper to write and after seven months with him, I knew he probably couldn’t find his phone even if it was off of “silent.”
He had answered on the first ring earlier that day, and told me it was ok to stop by whenever.
It was still whenever, even if it was 11:30.
I knocked on the door, and I could hear S.O.’s new roommate blab on and on about some time long ago when nothing that matters now, mattered.
I grinned to myself. S.O. must be so frustrated right now.
I knocked again, harder this time.
S.O. practically ran to the door. I grinned some more.
I came inside his apartment and what greeted me wiped the grin off my face.
His new roommate was a pig.
Not only that, there were MOUNDS of papers everywhere from his research for the paper he was writing.
On top of all that, it looked as if S.O. hadn’t had a clean piece of laundry in a month and all of it was dumped on the floor.
I hadn’t been in his apartment for a week.
At my arrival, the roommate left and went to his room.
S.O. actually hugged me and silently mouthed the words “Thank you.”
I laughed and told him that I’d only stay a minute and he wanted too he could go back to work while I was there.
He told me all concentration was gone, and that I might as well stay for the night.
So I settled down with him on his bed to talk about the week that was now gone.
Half way through it, S.O. mentioned he could go for breakfast.
Pancakes at Midnight
So at 12 we left his apartment to go out for breakfast.
After getting there, I spilled everything that had happened with S.Y.
I knew he wouldn’t get angry or mad.
I was right.
Looking amused he said, “I have a feeling something like this has happened before.”
“It has, with both S.Y. and I.D., how did you know?” I said.
“You seem to be very worn-out re-telling this whole story to me.” He said looking completely entertained.
“I hate re-runs,” I smiled and said.
“You aren’t surprised either.” He noticed.
“After knowing someone for 7 and 5 years you tend to pick up on things that they don’t even realize they are doing. (pause) Is this information overload for you?” I asked.

“If you are really asking, ‘Does this bother me?’ then no, I’m not worried about it.
If you are honestly asking the original question then you have to understand that you talk incessantly and at long intervals, if I were to have information overload it would be on those occasions, not now when you’ve told a story that only has a span of one night, and not for weeks.” He says so wryly and with a slight twinge to the corner of his mouth, just like a little boy wondering if he’ll get away with what he’s saying.

My S.O. reminds me of Cary Grant. I love Cary Grant.