It was the first weekend in April, also known to any sports fan as Final Four weekend. I was planning to watch the games with friends, but first, I had to swing by Barkley Square with my dog, Nutter. While I was shopping, Mr. Exec and I were texting back and forth. Right before I left the store, I sent him a text about what I wanted him to do to me when we saw each other next.
(I’m trying to be respectful of Mr. Exec and not blog in too much detail about our bedroom antics. But, if you know me and/or you’ve read my blog with any regularity, you should at least have a clue as to what I was texting about.)
When I left the boutique, I walked back to my car and opened the passenger door to put Nutter inside. As I moved my head out of the car, I banged it hard on the door frame. The force was strong enough that I was thrown back to the ground, and as I fell, I heard a pop. I felt a sharp pain on the left side of my neck where I heard the pop, and the top of my head began to throb.
I’ve had enough concussions over the years to know that this was another one. A call to one of my girlfriends confirmed that my speech was slurred. I tried to focus on the street signs, but all I saw was double. I knew I couldn’t drive myself home so I texted a few people for reinforcements, including Mr. Exec.
I wanted to keep my text to him light, and so I wrote:
All that dirty talk got me so hot that I hit my head. In so much pain and very dizzy.
Thirty minutes later, he wrote back, asking what happened. By that point, my friends, Autumn and Jamie, had already offered to come get me.
I replied immediately to tell Mr. Exec that I had a concussion, but I didn’t hear from him until my phone rang over an hour after that.
Mr. Exec: Do you need anything? I could come pick you up. [Even in my fog, that didn’t make sense. He called me almost two hours after I hit my head. I was already home by that point.]
Me: No, I’m home. Autumn and a friend came to get me.
Mr. Exec: Oh, Joey [his best friend] and I could have picked you up, if we had known. Did you take any pain medicine? You don’t sound good.
Me: No. Just Advil. This is just how sound after a concussion.
Mr. Exec offered to come over, but Autumn was already with me so that seemed unnecessary.
The following morning, Mr. Exec texted me to wish me a Happy Easter and see how I was feeling. I was still a little dizzy and had a headache, but my speech was thankfully back to normal. After service a few hours later, Mr. Exec called me. He was off to have Easter lunch at a friend’s house, but inquired about coming over to my place later in the day.
Mr. Exec: I want to check on you and make sure you’re okay.
That made me smile. Since we had only gone out a handful of times, I hadn’t expected him to offer to help me out.
Me: I’d like that. Thanks.
We hung up. The afternoon passed into evening. By the time I heard from him, it was 11pm — nine hours after his previous call. I could tell within a few sentences that he had been drinking.
Mr. Exec: Sorry that I didn’t call you sooner. My friend had a couple of bottles of champagne so we all just started drinking on her patio. I had really planned on coming over to take care of you.
Me: That would have been nice.
Mr. Exec: You’re welcome.
Me [laughing]: Umm…you don’t get points for the idea. You get points for the execution.
Mr. Exec [chuckling]: Oh, so that’s how it is?
Me: Yes, it is.
We talked more and somehow professional football came up. I’m a New York Giants fan, and he’s an Indianapolis Colts’ fan. He started spewing off statistics about the Colts as a team.
Me: So…who won a Superbowl more recently? [Answer: the Giants.]
Mr. Exec: [He throws out several more Colts’ stats.] I predict that we’re going to have you in a Colts’ jersey before the end of the season.
Me: Really now? Is that jersey coming with a four-carat ring? Because that’s what it would take for me support any other team than the Giants!
He laughed, and then continued to throw out more football facts. I was tired and hadn’t been drinking so my tolerance for buzzed talking (let alone buzzed driving) was minimal. I told him that I needed to go to bed so that I could just get off of the phone.
I didn’t feel as though I had the right to be mad since we weren’t even a couple. I also didn’t know him well enough by this point to be emotionally invested. I wasn’t shedding any tears over the situation, but I was disappointed. Mr. Exec had said that he wanted to be there for me, and in the end, he wasn’t.
Was this a sign of things to come?