Free Has Anyone Seen My Pants? by Sarah Colonna Page B

some bloat, but from here on out I’d ignore any other advice she offered up.
    A few days before I was set to take off to see Baseball Player, I once again stopped hearing from him. In my mind, at thispoint, he should’ve been more flirtatious, more attentive, knowing that I was flying there the next week. Ugh, why was this silent thing happening again ? Boyfriends you’ve never met or had an actual conversation with can be so unreliable!
    I decided he must have met someone. Or he’d changed his mind. I went into my good friend and coworker Jen Kirkman’s office and told her everything. I had to fill her in from the top, but she’s a quick learner. Neither of us could really figure out what was happening, but Jen suggested I not text him to find out; she suggested I wait to hear from him, then she promised me that if I didn’t hear from him by the morning of the day I was supposed to go, she’d go with me, and we’d make a girls’ weekend out of it.
    “I have miles on Virgin, I can book a flight last-minute and we’ll go and have fun.”
    She is such a good friend. I still felt anxious and oddly a little sad, but at least even if the worst-case scenario happened, my nonrefundable suite at the Four Seasons wouldn’t remain empty all weekend.
    Friday morning, the day I was supposed to leave, there was still no word from Baseball Player. I still didn’t want to text him because I felt like at this point, he knew the plan, seemed excited about the plan, encouraged the plan, and was just being fucking rude.
    Jen was just about to book her flight when I got a text from him: “What time do you get in?”
    Jen logged off the Virgin America website and we both let out a huge sigh of relief (although she would have gone with mein a heartbeat, I doubt the idea of having to nurse me through a weekend of drinking away the pain of being blown off and trying to wrestle my phone from me every time I wanted to drunk-text him about how he was a big jerk sounded like a lot of fun to her). It’s amazing how I let a whole week of anxiety go out the window just because I got one simple text.
    Now I was ready to go. I had lost a few pounds and several hundred dollars, but I felt decent about how I looked naked and therefore the money was well spent. That afternoon, I boarded my flight to San Francisco with a carry-on bag full of cute clothes, sexy underwear, and an expensive body exfoliant that Body-Wrap Lady threw in for good luck.
    The flight to San Francisco from Los Angeles is barely over an hour, but I managed to down four cocktails. The flight attendant looked both alarmed and impressed.
    When I arrived at my hotel, I received a text from Baseball Player asking if I was at my hotel yet. It was Friday night, and my plan was to rest up, go to his game Saturday afternoon, then enjoy a nice evening on the town with him Saturday night.
    “I’m here!” I told him. “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
    “Well, what are you doing tonight?” he asked. “I might need a cuddle partner [winking smiley face].”
    “Oh, I figured you’d be busy tonight. Where did you want to meet?”
    “My hotel room.”
    This threw me for a loop. I didn’t think I’d see him Friday night; I knew he had a game that night followed by a day gameSaturday. Didn’t he need to rest? Why would he want to get together with me for the first time ever at eleven p.m. on a Friday night?
    Oh.
    In a panic, I called Tara and then she dialed in Stephanie (Tara is the only one of us who knows how to connect a three-way call).
    “So you see him tonight,” they explained. “What’s the big deal?”
    “I don’t know! I’m not mentally ready!” I yelled at them while I stood naked in front of my hotel bathroom mirror, checking to see if any new cellulite had erupted below my ass on the flight in. “If I see him tonight it’ll be at like eleven p.m. and he has an early day tomorrow. I thought our first time hanging out would be different. You know: