Thank you for not showing up.

I sat in the coffee shop.  It is an old favorite.  The coffee was strong as tar (if I ever drank tar) and I loved it.  We met online and agreed to forgo the silly back and forth and just meet for coffee.

I didn’t mean to “like” his profile.  It was an accident and he liked me back and I felt guilty.  My thumbs get me in a lot of trouble and phone screens are unforgiving.  He wrote that he had retired early and held a patent that he sold to IBM.  Impressive.  The most important thing in his life is his son.  Sad.  Flags were starting to go up the pole.  I questioned his conservatism silently and joked about it.

He said, “this will mess with your 2nd amendment views, my nonprofit teaches gun safety to children to help keep households secure and people alive.”  I responded, “actually, I think that is a good thing.  I’m surprised your guns weren’t taken by Obama, though.  Poke, Poke. Poke.”  He wrote, “I will see you on Friday.”  I wrote, “looking forward to it”.

I arrived.  I sat.  I sent a message 3 minutes before our scheduled time “I’m here”.  I could see that he saw my message.  No response.  I waited 20 minutes, used the nongender restroom (sometime I will tell you about not using the restroom before getting on the road without going when you really should, urine trouble)  and then left.

He did me a favor, a favor I couldn’t do for myself.  That’s the part that nudges me.  Still trying to be nice.  What the hell is that about?  Now I have even more to think about.

The coffee was good, though.