eleven » the mess

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"Nowadays people confuse insomnia with a lack of will to turn of electronic devices and logout of social networks." - Anonymous

It was the following day, that I realised I'd unintentionally blown off my own girlfriend. I was settled in front of the television, hardly paying attention to the monotonous host's rambling as I skimmed over all my notes for the exam I was expected to be at that afternoon, when it hit me. Completely out of the blue, I remembered the lunch date Georgia and I were supposed to have after she'd finished her dress rehearsal.

Needless to say, I immediately scrambled for my phone, which lay discarded on the coffee table. It hadn't been used since yesterday morning, and upon switching it on, the poor device was bombarded with a bounty of angry texts and furious voicemails, all of which were dated about an hour after I was supposed to meet Georgia at our favourite restaurant.

Well, fuck. I couldn't help but think, flicking through the many messages, the first of which read: 'Hi, baby. I'm here, where are you?' followed by: 'are you running late? Flick me a text to let me know...' fifteen minutes later the angry texts began to show, all of which were structured along the lines of: 'Seriously, Jason. This isn't fucking funny, it's one thing to be stood up by a random, but by your own fucking boyfriend... it sucks. You better have a good explanation for this.' The last text, the most ominous one, was sent half an hour after the horde of pissed of messages and voicemails. All is said was: 'Fuck this, fuck you.'

Georgia, on most conventional occasions (save for when she's being sarcastic), doesn't really like to swear. She thinks it lowers your intellect when there are so many other amazing words that can describe a situation far better than 'shit' or 'fuck'. So, when she begins to utilize the vulgar language, it's a sign she's extremely pissed off.

Since that last text, no others were sent. Taking it as a really bad sign, I immediately dialed her number, biting my lip as the tone rang on. 'Hi, you've reached the voicemail of-' No answer. "Fuck." I muttered, pressing the end call button before rolling my head back to hit the seat of the couch.

Knowing Georgia, she won't be answering for a couple of days, at least. At most, it could be a week or two before I talk to her, let alone see her again. In the list of things that I must never do as a boyfriend, standing her up was second to top. Top was of course 'don't cheat', only I'd never do that to her. If there was ever someone else, I'd make sure to let her know before anything serious happened, as hurting Georgia was on the top of my list of things I never wanted to do.

Groaning, I rolled back onto the couch. What the fuck was I going to do now? Emily was mad at me, Georgia was beyond pissed and no doubt Julie would have it out for me after Georgia tells her about last night, I was really alone. Once again, I felt completely alone.

Opting for a lonely night alone, I flicked the television on before slotting a trashy action movie into the DVD player. I made a cup of tea, whipped up some two minute noodles and settled down on the couch, swimming in a sea of guilt and despair as a sweaty hero slaughtered soldiers at the thousands.

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Roughly three hours later, I woke to an incessant ringing noise. Blinking my eyes in order to wake up properly, I realised the source of the sound was my cellphone. Not being able to help myself, I scrambled for the device, hoping with every fiber of my being that it was Georgia on the other end of the phone.

"Hello?" I mumbled, trying my best to sound upbeat as I collapsed back onto the couch.

"Jay?" The person on the other end sounded scared, their voice soft as it was carried over the radio waves to greet me.

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