There’s no need to be rude

Ugh, I hate rudeness. Cannot stand it. Whether it’s being unnecessarily nasty, ignoring text messages or phone calls, it really gets my back up. And so I’m less than impressed with a certain person – namely, Mr Music.

Last night I went out for a meal and drinks with some people from work. One of them was a girl we used to work with but had since moved jobs. In fact, she was the very person who interviewed me and offered me the job which put me in my current company and we’ve always got on well. I’d bumped into her in the early new year and we said we’d arrange something. Invites were sent, a location determined – a good night for a good old catch up. Straight away, Mr Music tentatively accepted. Not strange in itself, he always does it. It’s like he doesn’t like to commit to anything until a few days beforehand. The day of the meal rolls round with a couple other tentatively accepted attendees, so as the organiser, I IM’d a them on our internal communicator. Were they coming, if so we were meeting at X time at X place. This was done at around lunchtime. By 5pm, nothing from Mr Music. As I shut down my PC, I decided he wasn’t going to turn up. And sure enough, he didn’t come to the restuarant, nor did he text to say so.

Now, I’m not too fussed about him not coming. Like I’ve said before, my not so platonic feelings for him can be easily turned down. What pissed me off was that I had to confirm with the restaurant how many people would be coming and not only that, the girl we used to work with was celebrating her 30th birthday AND had just announced she was pregnant with her first child. The fact that she and Mr Music also got on really well was to me, a good reason to go. When I’d told him I’d bumped into her earlier in the year and would arrange something, he’d made all the right noises about how much fun it would be, and the invites were sent like a month in advance.

Maybe I’m being arrogant, but I can’t help but feel that his avoidance is because I’d told him I liked him. We spoke last week as I’ve booked some gig tickets for us and another friend later in the year, but where he’d ordinarily reply to my messages instantaneously, he’d wait over an hour to reply to everything I said. It sounds silly, but knowing how we’d ordinarily communicate, something is definitely off. And if that is the case, then all I have to say is:

The fact is, I don’t want to jump into his pants every time I contact him. Do me a favour. Most times, I’m just being friendly like I always am. And he wasn’t the one that had to tell everyone else that he hadn’t bothered to reply to the invite when they asked where he was. To me, that’s just rude, and I don’t do rude. So, my already cooled feelings about him have pretty much gone arctic.

On the upside, we had a great night. We each sank about a bottle of wine but none of us got silly drunk. Instead, we went dancing in possibly the hottest bar I’ve ever been in. And I mean temperature hot (not a single fit man in sight) and got stalked by a strange old man who didn’t seem to belong to anyone, trying, and epically failing, to do the Michael Jackson Thriller dance.

As I walked home at 1am, I found myself smiling. I love my life and I love my city. It was quiet as  walked over Westminster Bridge and everything looked so beautiful. The London Eye was lit up with blue lights and the few people around were all smiling like there was nothing to worry about in this life. I wish I’d have taken a picture, but I didn’t. It was one of those walks where your mind just meanders and I came to the realisation that I really shouldn’t sweat the small stuff.

Whether it’s a work related issue that makes my blood boil or a friend who seems to have lost his manners, it came to feel like water off a ducks back. Life is too short to worry about the things you can’t change. Today, I’ve woken up in the same mood. I’ve tidied up, I’m chilling to Kings of Leon and I plan to catch up with my ever expanding Sky Plus recordings (namely New Girl and Fringe) before I get ready to go out later. A perfect Saturday, methinks.



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