Turns out that I may have as frail an ego now as I did a decade and a half ago, altho I’d like to think that I’ve grown up, mellowed out, and grew more centered in myself.

An old friend and I had been musing last week over how we met and became friends 14 years ago, and neither of us could remember how we exactly traded digits. Well, in my diary excavation last nite, I turned a page and there it was, right there. Down to the exact detail. I called him last nite kinda excitedly to share the story with him, but first I asked whether he was busy. He said he’d just gotten out of the shower. So I told him to go ahead and finish whatever post-shower routine he has and call me back. He agreed, but never called me back. 20 minutes ago, I thought I’d call him again, and he picked up as he was driving home from work. He apologized for not calling me back last nite, saying he has a lot on his plate with his new job, and I casually dismissed it, but he insisted on the apology. So we’re good, right? I told him all excitedly and laughing that I found my old diary from high school, and he said, “REALLY.” I told him I found out exactly how we started talking. Apparently I’d played a really lame prank on him and after doing so and kinda upsetting him, I’d felt bad so we traded pager #s and started talking. I’d kept laughing at myself and how idiotic I was back then, and said I don’t know how or why he’d ever put up with me, because even if he reads this diary now, he’d never speak to me again. He asked amusedly, “So what are you saying, I should just never speak to you again?”
I said, “No, just that you should never read this diary.”
He said, “Why would I?”
“Oh, no reason, just that sometimes people are curious what’s said about them if they know they’re mentioned.”
“I guess I’m just not that curious of a person.”
I flipped a few more pages and saw another amusing couple of lines about him, so I read it to him and laughed. There was only road noise on the other side of the line. And then he said, rather flatly, “I thought I’m not supposed to know the contents of your diary.”
I was still in an obliviously jolly mood, so I said, “Oh, you’re not getting much, just a couple snippets.”
From his end, more road noise. Then, “That’s okay. I really don’t care to know what’s in there.”
I finally heard the coldness in his tone, and inside I started backing up. “I just thought it was funny and that you’d be interested because we had been talking the other week about how we got here and neither of us could remember, so…”
There was a looooot of silence. So much so that I thought his phone went thru a bad reception area. I finally heard him say something I couldn’t really make out, and I asked, “Were you talking this whole time?” thinking that the silence I heard was really missed conversation.
He replied, “No.” And then said something else that I couldn’t really make out, but his continued cold disinterested tone was unmistakeable.
I asked, hating the small voice I heard, “Do you want to go so you can concentrate on driving?” Giving him an out.
“I’m almost home, just another light and around the corner and I’m there.”
What does that mean? That it’s okay to keep talking because he won’t be driving for long? Or that he’s almost home so he’d like to go? Whatever he intended, I knew what I wanted. “Your phone’s been going in and out and I can’t really hear you well, so I’m just gonna talk to you later.”
“Okay. Talk to you later, Cindy.”
“Bye.”

Why do I let people do this to me?! Now I feel like shit. And I feel stupid.