Femme Fatale sat there, listening to the ringback. Third ring, fourth. No answer. Voice mail.
A nasty feeling began to creep up in her stomach. Could he be dead?
This week’s tool brought to you by laziness. Laziness: the ultimately shitty way to dump someone. In a grocery aisle near you!
A girl I know had been dating a guy for about five months. It was a “long-distance” relationship in the sense that they lived two hours apart. Despite that, all was going well. They traded off driving on weekends. His work often brought him to the town where she lived.
Things were going very well and they were both happy. Or at least, she was happy. Who really knows what goes on in the other person’s mind?
Femme Fatale went to visit Bonehead Brian one weekend. She was pleased and surprised to see he’d bought her a set of gorgeous sunflowers. Sunday, she left to drive home and he said he’d call her the next day to set up arrangements for his impending week long visit to her town.
She never heard from him again.
At first, no worries. He was busy working — so what if he didn’t call? Subsequent voice mails were along the lines of “Hey, I’m worried about you – are you ok?”
Silence. He never answered his phone.
Soon, she wondered if he’d been killed in an accident. She found herself searching local newspapers online to see if there had been any wrecks. Nothing. After a week she had a male friend of hers call his workplace and ask for Brian. The person answering the phone said, “Sure, hang on. I’ll get him.”
Her friend disconnected.
But Femme Fatale didn’t. How can you have any closure when someone simply doesn’t even give you a good-bye, an explanation? You just have to sit there and wonder what happened. What went wrong?
She later called him and left one of those VERY-satisfying-but-not-mature angry voice mails. Silence.
I think it took her longer to get over him than it normally would. What do you do with the silence, ringing so loudly that you can’t even hear the compliments other non-douchey boys are handing to you?
I hate to call this one a tool because I (sexistly) associate tools with manliness. This douchebag couldn’t even find his balls long enough to make a simple phone call.