I was completely put off by M.I.'s behavior, the lack of contact had been enough on Friday and I had sworn him off... that was until he called at 10.30 p.m. to complain that he was just getting out of the office. I responded, "Spare me the self-pity, I am still at the office." We had a nice conversation, as always, but that was it, no follow up other than a let's talk tomorrow or Sunday.
Saturday was a blast, I went to Fire Island for the first time. It was but a day trip, but I loved it. I guess if I had to sum it up in one word, it would be "vibrant." I arrived back in Manhattan at 1 a.m. and ran home to work on some things I needed to get done by Sunday at 9.00 a.m. for work (the recipient of the work product needed it at that time, yeah right. He didn't start reading it until Monday 9.00 a.m., fuck that). Back to train ride back though. I saw a very attractive guy on the platform and thought to myself, A.B., you should talk to him. As fate would have it, we ended up on the same train and after a neverending internal diatribe, I approached him and he asked me to sit down. Well, it turns out we had been in touch via e-mail (on http://www.connexion.org). We exchanged numbers when we arrived to Penn Station and there was clearly some chemistry in the air. When I got home and turned on my computer to start working, I already had an e-mail from him :-)
Now, all along, I couldn't get M.I. out of my head, he lingered there all through Fire Island, all through work and all through Sunday. So I called him on Sunday afternoon to say hello and got the inevitable voice mailbox. I was fuming, again. Now, I fumed because I thought "this guy is so avoiding me and can't even say so." Well, I guess I jumped to conclusions because I received a text message about 4 hours later stating that he was sick and in the hospital. My heart skipped a beat and I felt terrible and at the same time wanted to rush to his side like Flo Nightingale, I'm such a fag. Anyhow, I called him (no answer) and sent him a text message (no response). By 10.30 p.m. I was hoping it wasn't anything grave and called his home (which I had never done before). As I heard someone pick up, I thought, "oh good, he's ok". The voice on the other end was a guy (unknown who or what he was) who told me that M.I. was sick, had gone to the hospital, a bout with gastroenteritis and that he was sleeping. I put on my more serene of voices and said I had just called to see how he was doing and to offer any help if he needed it. Haven't heard back from him yet.
Am I just stupid for still hoping?