trusting your gut: cassie gregory

**Disclaimer:  This post was written on April 13, 2012. **
Friday the 13th is a day that some believe is a very un-lucky day.
But I would rather think of it as a very lucky day and I will tell you the end. 

Brooke and I had a double date this past Friday night with a couple guys who have a bromance with each other.
Anywho, we made plans with these 2 fellas earlier in the week - confirmed Friday morning by deciding that going to see 21 Jump Street at 7:25 in Pearl would be a 'great idea.'

Sidenote: There are some code words here you may need to know
(initial is not their real initial - used a different one just in case they ever read this):

My date = N
Brooke's date = D
Anything in a ( ) is what I'm thinking in my head, I don't actually say it.

Also, I am the type person that hates to have plans changed at the last minute..
keep that in mind while reading.

All plans were set as I was driving home from work at 5 when I get a text from N that says: 
Call me. 

I hate those two words because 1) I hate talking on the phone and 2) I am not going to do what you say - sounded like a command.

So I don't write back right away (because you shouldn't text and drive right?) and I continue driving home. 
I write back when I finally get home and say: 

Me: Hey can you just text me what it is you needed to tell me; trying to get ready.

N: yeah baby (umm, baby? don't think so buddy)

N: Yall are going to meet us at crabs 

I don't even respond.
I text brooke and say 'we have to talk when I get to your house.'
I stopped for a second and tried to be rational...
If brooke and her date had planned dinner before, obviously I would go along with the group.

I get to Brooke's house and I ask her if they had planned dinner before.
She said, No i haven't heard from D since 9:30 this morning.

So let me get this straight:
These two boys decided they wanted to eat - change the plans completely - and not even ask us, they just TOLD us what WE were going to do with them. I don't think so, mister.

So here is how the next set of text messages went...

Me: I'm with brooke now; we want to go to the movies first and she doesn't want to eat at crabs either.

N: Wow. (already giving me attitude - not great)

N: So do y'all not want to hang out? I mean we are about to eat (so youre already at restaurant and we aren't even ready?) why don't we meet after

Me: Because we have to get up early tomorrow so we aren't going to the late movie; this was the plan a few hours ago.

N: so yall are going to movie then going home

Me: We are going to the 7:25 movie, not sure what we will do after.  What are y'all doing after y'all eat? 

N: call me. (once again, no)

N: we wanna chill with yall.

 **After this I am just annoyed.  I ask Brooke what she thinks we should do and we decide we are still going to our movie and we will meet them after to get it over with.**

So I text him back and said...

Me: We will meet yall after the movie, maybe at like Buffalo Wild Wings?
N: Okay sounds great.

During the movie, I leave my phone in my purse and forget about it.
Once the movie is over, I check my phone: 

2 text messages
4 missed calls

ABSOLUTELY ridiculous.

I send a text to N: We just got out of the movie.

He calls me 2 more times before I can even walk to my car.
In the car, I finally answer.

This is the conversation: 

Me: hello?
N: where you at?
Me: at the movies, i literally just got in my car.
N: (cuts me off) well are yall coming up here?
Me: Yes, we are on our way to Buffalo Wild Wings now.
N: uhh, no we are now at a different place, McB's..yall come over here instead.

I was so annoyed at this point that i said:

N: what's your problem? (about to snap on him)
Me: My problem is, every time I make plans to meet you somewhere today - you have changed those plans.
N: Well, I've just had a really rough week and I want to see you and blah blah bullsh* blah.
Me: okay, okay. well we will see yall soon
and I hung up in his face.

I literally put the phone in my lap, put my car in drive and then I see this on my phone:

N: ok c ya in a few
(pick the phone up and put it in my lap again)

N: Smile I am ready 2 c u
(same process)

N: :/

By this point, it is literally getting to be too much.
Nobody has called my phone this many times since I bought my baby, Siri.

2 more phone calls and a text message before we even get out there.

I finally write back at 10:26 and said we just got out here and we are going in BWW because we are starving.
Yall can come across the street and see us (which is how it should be anyway).

N: Call me asap.
N: D in jail.

Me: It's too loud in here, why is he in jail?
N: ugh, DUI.

Me: Are yall still across the street? How does someone get a DUI that fast?

NO response from him again until 2 am...
N: What a night.

I don't text him back.

11 am on Saturday...
N: Meltdown last night

I don't text him back.

11 am on Sunday...
N: He sends me a picture of a piece of paper of a DUI i guess.
N: D got DUI. 

I think I get that now - you've only told me 02483098509 times. 

So to end this crazy stalker phone caller from ever contacting me again I make this up and send this:

The CSpire customer that you are trying to reach no longer
accepts contact from this number.
Continued contact will result in charges
to your account of $1.99 per text.

Haven't heard from him again.

Now some of you might think: That was a terrible night and Friday the 13th is really unlucky.
But Brooke and I don't see it that way at all - it was truly a blessing in disguise. 
No girl should have to put up with that.

I feel it is my duty to take nights like this, and turn them into situations you girls can learn from without having to experience it, but in a very, witty way.
Just my little part of good I can do in the world.
I hope you enjoyed this blog post as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Moral of the story kids:
Go with your gut feeling and pray
I prayed that Thursday night: "God, If you do not want me to waste my time with this person, please send me a sign."

Ask and you shall receive, people.



Read more of Cassie's posts on her blog, Always a Blogsmaid, Never a Blogger