Pasta's Attitude - Sandy's Mondays

 The Whisperer of the Abyss:

Sandy’s Never-Ending Monday Rants - Journal Entry 18

Fiction that's based on real life.  All names were changed, just in case.  

Pasta's Attitude

I went on a date this weekend. The man’s name was Pasta. He was not short, not tall. He was Italian. 

The Pasta was late, like 20 minutes late. I had nothing to do, so I was enjoying the coffee shop and listening to my favourite music on my phone device. 

There, Pasta showed up. He fixed his pants' zipper and bought himself a coffee. 

I waved my hand hello.

Pasta looked at me and said, “Are your friends single? Introduce me to your friends. But-a-bing.”

In that instance, I was disinterested in Pasta. He wasted my time, but I had nothing to do. Like completely nothing; cricket sound. 

Another human was sitting in front of me, and I decided to stay a few minutes and then go. “Well, I am here for another 5 minutes, and then I will have to go since I was already waiting for 20 minutes. I have work tomorrow.”

Apparently, Pasta’s relatives were going to have a gathering, and he insisted that I should be there too. I definitely did not want to be anywhere there. He did not make any solid plans; everything about him was lukewarm. 

He kept waving at me every time he saw me going out for a walk with Chubaka and Shelly.  I bet he waited for me to text first, but that was not my thing - according to the olden times. 

Like, if there is no e-mail after the first date, within the first two hours; it is a no-go. If someone e-mails three hours later, again, that's a no-go. I can reply depending on the context, but it will be a steady no. There are wild stories that people wait for a reply for weeks only to realize they will never receive any communication from them. Why wait?

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