I have high hopes. The hours are generally better in private equity, and I’m going to get a higher salary if I’m offered a position.
A step closer to paying off my student loan and buying Dad his dream home. Sweet!
Another text comes in. I check immediately; something from the Blaire Group about the interview? But it’s Rick, who’s up early this morning. Normally he sleeps in until nine.
–Rick: Hey, babe, you ready?
–Me: I just got to work. Ready for what?
–Rick: For our six-month anniversary trip!
A bomb seems to go off in my mind.
–Me: What are you talking about?
–Rick: I told you to mark your calendar! And put a heart over it.
I think back for a second, then realize he’s right. He asked me to do it last month. So I put a circle around the date on the wall calendar in my apartment. No heart, though. That would’ve been sort of embarrassing and a little dishonest—I don’t quite feel like Rick’s worth a heart…yet.
But what does that have to do this outlandish trip thing?
–Me: You never said anything about a trip! You know I hate surprises.
I made that clear when we started dating. I was a week out of breaking up with my previous boyfriend, and told Rick specifically that I didn’t like unpredictability or my plans getting derailed. It was something we both agreed on.
–Rick: I did tell you! I told you to look at my Pulse feed!
I start to get a sinking feeling. He did that, too…but never told me why. So I didn’t bother, since I don’t have time to look at funny videos or memes. I have so much crap on my plate right now.
–Me: You put our trip on social media and didn’t tell me directly?
I just stare at my phone, speechless. Who shares plans like this? He knows I don’t have time to check my Pulse account! I only opened it because he insisted that I join “civil society” and get connected to the “people of the world.” He doesn’t understand that unless being connected to all of humanity is going to get me an extra half an hour of sleep per night, I’m not interested.
–Rick: I wanted to do something creative. And I wanted everyone to know how special you are. My God, Amy, the post with the plan got over three thousand likes!
As if that matters!
Part of me wants to tell him there’s no way I can go. I’m annoyed he did it the way he did. But another part of me whispers at least he’s trying to be the kind of boyfriend who remembers important dates. I just wish they didn’t include a six-month anniversary. Who celebrates half a year?
–Rick: I guess people liked the idea of a fun weekend getaway in a cabin in Tahoe. I filled my tank and got everything we’ll need for hiking and campfire cooking.
Hiking? Campfire cooking? Those sound like chores, especially when we’ll have to spend over twenty hours driving back and forth between L.A. and Lake Tahoe. We talked about what we liked to do for relaxation once, and I told him anything that doesn’t require me to be active. He should’ve known then that hiking is not my idea of fun.
If he’d asked abou
t the trip before he booked it and announced it via Pulse, I would’ve suggested a weekend package at a hotel with a view of the ocean not too far from L.A. One that included couples massages and room service.
His poor planning and communication are irritating the crap out of me. Not even Emmett has pulled something like this.
–Rick: All you have to do is show up in front of your office building by six today.
–Me: What do you mean? I have nothing to wear for the next two days in the office. I have to pack first.
–Rick: Then just go home and grab a few things. I can pick you up at your place. No biggie.
I prop my elbow on the desk and rest my forehead in my palm. Why hasn’t it penetrated his skull that he can’t just drop something like this on me without notice? Although I was hopeful Emmett might let me go home at a somewhat decent hour, now I’m pessimistic. He has a finely tuned radar that just knows when I have social plans. And his default response is to nuke my evening.
–Me: I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything. My boss can dump stuff on me at any time. You know how he is.