Seriously. I mean, at first, I was totally infatuated with you. You were so attractive and stylish, yet accessible. And Swedish! And you know how I love the Swedes with your social democracy and your charming deadpan ways.
In the beginning, I just admired you from afar, crushing on the beautiful pictures of a sunny life where everyone was happy and beautiful. And this life could be mine for a pittance. It all seemed so easy.
Then, miracle of miracles, you ended up less than 100 miles away. I could see you on weekends and our love would grow and grow. On our first date, I plunged in like the slut I can be when I'm in love. I took in all that you could give: $4000.00 and 4 hours later, I sat in the car panting and slightly sweaty. "Wow, that was amazing," I thought, "I can't wait to do this again!" Things were great for the next couple of weeks. You had promised to come see me in two weeks. Two weeks came and went with nothing, not even a phone call. "Well, you're just really busy," I thought, "Just wait a week." A week later, there was still nothing.
So I broke down and called. You were friendly. "Sorry I didn't call. It's going to be a while before I can see you. There's this big issue with customs," you said.
"Ok, I understand. I just wish you could have told me" I said.
"I know, but you have to understand how busy I am. I still really want to see you." You finally showed up, a month late, but you weren't all there. Something was missing.
Later, when we talked and I asked about it, you denied it at first, but then you finally broke down and admitted it. "But I promise things will be different. Just wait."
So I waited and waited. And nothing. I tried calling, but you wouldn't even take my calls anymore. It made me crazy. What the hell was going on? Had I done something wrong? Just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it! Still nothing.
Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I had to see you one last time and find out what was going on. I made my way to New Haven, sure that once we talked face to face, everything would be sorted out. I tried to be non-confrontational, but you had your back up immediately. You were SO rude. "I just want an answer!" I pleaded. You practically threw a piece of paper in my face. " Here. Read this." I read the paper: "Aisle 38, bin 32."
What the hell does that mean?! This is all you can tell me after all we've been through? I thought we had something good, but I guess I mean nothing to you.