Right.
So he didn't reply that day. Not in the evening either. Even though I stayed up late to monitor both my phone and Henry's Facebook page. And there was no reply when I eagerly checked my phone as soon as I woke up.
Twenty-four hours passed and I heard nothing from Henry. He hadn't been on Facebook either. After work, I dropped in at my friend Alice's and showed her my empty Inbox. Alice, with all her experience of text messaging impossible, obnoxious men, instantly asked: 'Do you not have the Delivery Report setting switched on?' What bl**** setting?
So no, I didn't and therefore couldn't be absolutely sure that the message had in fact reached Henry. But come on, why shouldn't it have, I asked Alice. Does anyone turn off their mobile phones these days, for 24 hours straight? Hardly. And being a busy, freelance camera man, he probably recharges his phone religiously.
'Maybe he's traveling?' Alice suggested, always ready to find explanations (read: excuses) for men not keeping in touch. I explained to her how, in these times, he'd have to be on either one of the Poles, climbing Everest or something equally extreme in such an exotic place that it wouldn't have phone reception, and that he would definitely have mentioned if he was packing for such an adventure when I last heard from him. Besides, he had commitments at a film school where he was tutoring once a week.
No, Henry was probably just yet another immature middle-aged man who panicked as soon as he faced any sort of confrontation and came to the utterly stupid conclusion that the most successful response was to play dead.
Ah, well. Good to know that before I even saw him! It would be hard day dreaming about the one-who-got-away with his face missing. And no more time would be wasted checking his Facebook page every ten minutes. Alice and I started joking around, making up excuses for Henry not to reply.
The winner was: 'He accidentally chopped off all his fingers while making firewood for his elderly mother...who lives in an old, damp cottage...in...Effushire!' We thought we were hilarious.
Eventually, I dragged myself home, way too late and just managed to spit out the toothpaste before my head hit the pillow.
And sure enough, what seemed to be only a few moments later, my mobile phone beeped. I reached for it and saw that it was almost midnight. And there it was, only 36 hours later, a reply from Henry: 'Yes, I'd love to see you in person! Am out of town working on a project right not, but lets find time soon. :)'
I laid back on the pillow and smiled. Despite being almost too tired to type, I replied and stuck my phone under the pillow before going back to sleep.
As I was drifting away again, my consciousness kicked in. A gnawing feeling made me suddenly wide awake and I swiftly sat up in the bed. What the hell had I written in that text???
I grabbed the phone and checked my Sent Messages as my heart pounded in my chest.
'Oh, good! You didn't chop off all your fingers then!'
Nice.One.
