SLIGHT Overreaction, Possibly.

...oh alright then; definitely. And all brought about because of an assumption on the part of one person (Best Friend 3) and a daft decision on the part of another (me).

See, what happened was that today I was due to meet up with Best Friend 3 to be introduced to her boyfriend; something that I was a bit nervous about- well you would be, wouldn't you? It's a big thing to meet the love of your close friend's life - but still game for, because it was important to her and in any case; it gave me an excuse to eat lunch out.

Anyway, I was due to start out at 10:15am, but thanks to the washing machine apparently deciding that it was going complete its 1 hour wash cycle in 1 hour and 12 minutes rather than, y'know, 1 hour, I ended up texting Best Friend 3 to let her know (because I was buggered if I was going to waste the electricity, water and washing powder that had been used by leaving it to go stagnant in the machine) and starting out around 12 or so minutes late. No reply, but then I thought she wouldn't have needed to.

Arriving at the pub at a little before 10:30am, I was disconcerted to find that neither she nor he were there and rang her; confused. The phone rang off. I rang again. Same. So I texted to ask her where she was, apologizing again for my lateness (mentioning my explanatory text for good measure) and telling her that I was there. No reply.

By then, rather than being confused, I was starting to panic. What if she hadn't received my message (damn mobile phones: why do we trust them??) and embarrassed and let down by my lack of arrival to meet her beloved had stormed out, angry with me? Or what if she had received the message and was angry with me anyway? Either way; the idea of her being angry was intolerable to me and I started ringing her over and over again, willing her to pick up, to reassure me, or to have it out with me, either way, to pick up and speak to me.

Nothing.

At a loss as to what else to do I trudged back into the pub, brought myself a large Pepsi Max, parked myself at a table and waited; my phone sat on the surface in front of me.

Ten miserable minutes later, it finally bleeped. Samantha: yes!

"Oh, sorry! Didn't you get my message?" it said, in the usual mess of garbled letters and numbers*; "I texted it twice: Didn't you read them? Nathan couldn't make it after-all so I thought I'd cancel.  Sorry. Are you free Saturday 8th?"

Well, the relief that surged through me was so great that I burst into tears. I tried to ring her again and after it rang off, shortly followed by an explanatory text saying: "driving", I sent her a message to ring or text me as soon as she could.

She did, asking again if I could meet her on June 8th. My reply was so long that it took three texts worth. I explained what had happened and that I had thought that she was angry with me. Was she?

"Noooo!" was her response. "Of course I'm not! I didn't realize you hadn't got my messages, that's all. Are you at the pub now?"

I replied and told her that I was (how many texts was it now? I lost count**) and asked (again) for reassurance that she wasn't angry with me.

Of course not, she said. In fact, it was I that should be angry with her, because of being messed around.

No no, I replied. Not angry at all.

So neither of us were. Thank God, thank God.

We arranged to meet at the same place at 6pm on the 8th, she told me that Nathan was looking forward to meeting me, I responded in kind, and that was that. Done and dusted.

So that left me sat in the pub with half a glass of fizzy pop and a stunned expression on my face, feeling very foolish indeed.

Why did I DO that? Must I always overreact? Why can't I simply go with the flow and let things just BE, rather than tying myself up in panicked knots? Oh, I'm such a berk...

In my defense, it's coming up to that special time of the month (...you know...) and my hormones are all over the place. Can that be used in mitigation?

Ah well. Anyway. Everybody's happy now. And the washing is very nearly dry after half a day in the sunshine. So there you go. =shrugs= Happy happy.

Alice x


* I know it saves time and that pretty much everybody does it but me, but I detest the so-called 'text speak', I really do. "L.O.L" is one of the only ones, if not THE only one, I can stand. Abbreviations, I can understand: writing Thurs. instead of Thursday for instance, to save space and or time. But this seemingly unstoppable wave of manglization of the English language brought about by mobile phones and the internet is beyond the pale, it really is. Even The Grandpapa does it. 

...And yes; I am aware that 'manglization' is not a word. But it's better than, say, 'LMAO' or 'CRE8'. Right?? Right.

** I may detest text speak, but not texts themselves. Much cheaper and more efficient (when the damn things work) than phoning someone. Particularly during a long and drawn out conversation. And particularly if, like me, you pay a nominal amount per month and in exchange can send a ton of the things for free. I get 5,000 a month, and long chats with Best Friend 3 not withstanding (she is the only one I end up sending lots in one go. Everybody else it's two or so per time. If that. Usually one), I barely use a tenth of that. My record so far is 300 in 28 days. Usually it's 200. A lot, but nowhere near 5,000.

...And yes, I know that if I pay a contracted amount every month (£8!), the texts and/or calls are not really "free", but it works out a heck of a lot cheaper than if I were to manually top up; a heck of a lot. So much so that they practically are. To use the full 5,000 (which, ok, I don't, but I COULD, if I wanted to) it works out at .16th of a penny per text. And for 300 minutes worth of call time it's .2667th of a penny a minute (again, I don't generally use a tenth of that, but again; I COULD); which isn't bad at all. Particularly considering that on Pay As You Go, texts cost an average of 15p each (each!) and calls can work out anything up to around 75p a minute. 

See? I know what I'm talking about. Make every penny of every last thing count, is my motto. 
I'm what is known as a Budgeting Master.  
...Or anally retentive and needlessly pedantic. 
It depends on who you talk to. But either way, as the yanks would say: "I Rock".