Hope springs eternal?

It had been nearly three months since I last spoke to my beau, who is working overseas. (The Nigerian telephone system is horrendous.) During this incommunicado period I got more and more pessimistic and my depressive symptoms went from bad to worse. After a couple months I figured it was a hopeless situation and stopped trying to call him. I started to question whether he would ever return and to resent him for not having done so already. I'd get angry when I thought of him, which was often. I even wrote him a letter last Sunday demanding that he get here soon or just break up with me because I JUST COULDN'T TAKE IT anymore.

But the next morning before I mailed it, I got a voice mail message from him. (After seeing the "Caller ID blocked" notice, I assumed it was a telemarketer and I didn't pick up. DOH!) I tried calling over the next few days but was unsuccessful. Finally, yesterday afternoon, I emerged from the subterranean computer room at work to find a message on my cell phone. I went outside for privacy and called back. After about a dozen tries I got through.

I gave him an earful, saying everything that was in that letter and more. His response: "Do you still want to see me?"

Come to find out he's found a way out of Nigeria and was calling to tell me he's booked on a flight to Lebanon Friday of next week. He'll visit his family for a couple weeks and then get a ticket to Boston. (!!!)

But I can't get excited just yet. He's not out of Nigeria. He doesn't have a ticket to Boston. Once those things happen I'll probably start freaking out for real. Get ready to see the old me back, people! And I won't have to sell my Jeep! And we'll upgrade to a one bedroom apartment! Wait, that last one sounds kind of sad, actually . . . separate living and bedroom areas as a big step up. Heh.