Well, it appears the old saying is true, "no alcohol-laden, buffet-fueled, unbridled display of man-dependence goes unpunished."
Or something like that, I wasn't a literature major.
The girlfriend is mad at me. Actually mad isn't the right descriptor, "slightly annoyed" is more correct. Much like Rev. Jesse Jackson is "slightly annoyed" with the Klan.
Yeah, she's a little mad at me. To her credit she calmly and maturely explained why she is "slightly annoyed" with me, to which I very intelligently responded, "what????"
In the interest of fairness, it seems only right to present both sides of the story before I continue.
First her slightly (wrong) skewed set of (crazy) beliefs that has her (incorrectly) thinking that she is right.
I went on vacation for two weeks, during the first week I was in Nashville, Tenn., and she received a text message from me almost every morning (think I missed one day in seven). Then during the second week I went to Kentucky, also known as "the land where technology dies."
I know you've seen pictures of this place, where all-you-can-eat is a challenge not an adjective. A place where not losing teeth until age thirty is considered "having a good run." A place run by old-time, redneck, cotton-pickin', hillbilly Colonel Sanders look-alikes with gender issues that have names like Frank or Bubba or JoeJack (yes, it is one word).
But I digress.
One of the problems with the area I was in was no cell phone reception and no text messages. Instead I began sending her an e-mail every other day. I'd send one, she'd reply and then I'd reply to that and so on.
But her "slight annoyance" came from the fact that I never called, not once.
I did have access to a phone, should I have needed it but it just never occurred to me that I should. By my logic " and I would imagine the logic of most non-married men " I didn't think I had to.
I exempt married men from this logical alleyway because they have been trained as to proper vacation communication protocol. Also, they are married and there is no way they are getting to go on a vacation alone. Like twin sisters you meet at the bar who want to "experiment:" It's a nice dream, but never actually happens.
So I was on vacation, the girlfriend and I were communicating regularly and I was demonstrating that I was thinking about her even though she wasn't around. How is that different from talking on the phone?
Well my friends, I'm here to tell you, apparently it is different. Very different.
Like 1970s Michael Jackson and 1990s Michael Jackson. Very different.
I don't understand; it's not like I completely neglected her. I communicated, I shared my feelings and little snippets from my day. I even brought presents back specifically for her. I thought I had avoided every first-vacation-apart land mine.
So there I was, whistlin' a little tune, strollin' to the finish line and BLAMO, I hit one mother of a hidden explosive device.
It would appear I'm a casualty of my own ignorance in not knowing that no matter what, you always call.
Neither one of us is budging on what the correct protocol is, but you can bet that next time I'll call.
Call me a wuss, call me whipped but before you do, take a minute and remember that I haven't met all of her relatives yet and I don't want to end up "slightly annoying" her portly, overall-wearin' uncle.
Named Frank.
So who's right? Tell me about it.