I love a good storm.

 During the months of June – November, I monitor the NOAA site constantly. It gets me all hot and bothered when I see that little notification on their site about a tropical depression.

I volunteered to be the leader of our phone tree at work in case of a hurricane or tropical storm.

I’m a geek like that.

I used to love it when my boss would close the office early and tell me to go to the liquor store to stock up. Hurricane party. Hot damn.

One time I got an early dismissal from work due to an impending hurricane, I rushed to the liquor store for booze and the grocery for cupcakes (screw the water, I make cupcakes during a storm) then went home and told my dad he needed to throw all his patio furniture into the pool. True story.

But the storm never came, so I called to order Chinese food. They were fucking closed. Luckily, they opened up an hour later and saw my number on the caller id, called me back and let me know they were open.

Don’t judge.

 So, when I clicked on his Match profile, I had no idea.

He was a bit older than me, definitely more buff than me, but that didn’t matter. He was cute.

He was a hurricane hunter.

Yes, he flies planes into hurricanes.

I hit the mother effing jackpot.

He immediately responded to my email. (I know, I’m getting sick and tired of making the first move. For once I’d like a normal guy to contact me first. Ugh.)

We emailed back and forth and the banter was somewhat there. But I decided after the last guy telling me I wasn’t open or passionate enough, I was gonna make a change.

Break out of my shell. Step out of my comfort zone.

Right.Into.The.Hurricane.

He asked for my number pretty quickly and I was happy to oblige. He wanted to meet on Friday, after a concert.

OK, so I wasn’t that open just yet. I didn’t feel comfortable meeting some random guy after he’d been out at some god forsaken country music concert. I declined and suggested we try to meet another time.

That Saturday he texted me, hungover (I was glad I decided to pass on meeting that Friday night. Cause lord knows in his drunken stupor I’m sure he would have told me all about that concert and I don’t do country. At all.) and on his way to meet his kiddos.

We set up a date for the next Tuesday night.

Guess where?

You got it, Chili’s. Can no one come up with anything original any more? That place owes me. Big time.

So, Tuesday morning I texted him to find out what time.

Nothing.

I wasn’t about to go chasing after him, so I let it go.

Till Friday. When I could take it no longer. I have an issue with closure. I need to have it and I need to have the last word.

Me: So, what happened?

His response, infuriating – to?

Me: You, Tuesday

Hurricane boy: had to fly

Me: You could’ve let me know

Hurricane boy: I couldn’t phone died

For three days? C’mon now, I wasn’t born yesterday.

Hurricane boy = delete from phone

Then 5 days later, I get a text

Hurricane boy: Hey

Me: Who is this?

Hurricane boy: It’s hurricane

Me: oh, what’s up?

Hurricane boy: I broke my foot bad Sunday, having surgery Friday

 So, you couldn’t be bothered calling me to let me know you couldn’t make our date, but you feel the sudden urge to tell me that you broke your foot bad? Do I look like Mother Theresa? I didn’t think so.

The next day I get another text

Hurricane boy: good morning beautiful!

Me: Good morning

Me: so….

Hurricane boy: I’m having surgery tomorrow

Yeah, so you said yesterday.

He texted me a few times right after the surgery, I texted him back once to see how he was feeling and I didn’t get a response.

I honestly just don’t get dudes.

 In other news, the early riser has risen again. After a year.

 Good morning sunshine.

Tagged as: match.com, Me, ranting, raving, second chances, texting, why are guys weird