The Time Boyfriend Died

My family and friends know about me that sometimes always I overreact. 


A little background on the situation: since August, boyfriend has started a new job that is insanely demanding and taking up a lot of family bandwidth - as of Tuesday, I started a new job that will amusingly do the same. We see each other almost never and occasionally catch one another coming or going - it's basically the most #romantic thing of all time. I assume Mary & Joseph went through a similar struggle. 


So I'm at my new job all week about to fall into a coma from all the new info. Boyfriend, on his days off this week, is at home taking care of our autistic dog. Since we see each other every other leap year, we casually text throughout the day, on most days. So today around 12:30p I haven't heard from boyfriend and send a totally casual *non stalker* text saying wahtup. Nothing. 


Around 1:30pm - "...hey?"


...nothing.


3:30p : (still not being a stalker, for the record) dkjfasdkfja WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU


5 (or so) missed calls


5:15pm: "..."


At this point, I'm driving home from work in a complete tizzy because I've been trying to phone home for 5 hours and haven't gotten anything. 


The highway I take home from downtown runs down a hill and as I am on top of the hill, I see a huge cloud of smoke in the horizon. 


Oh my God. The house is on fire. They are both dead in the house. OR they ran out of the burning house and the phone is inside. But probably dead. 


I keep driving and realize the fire is too far south to be my house and rule that out entirely. Whew. 


At this moment, I have about 10 minutes before I get home. I have ruled out the house fire, but you should know -- it takes much less than 10 minutes for a girl like me to run away with things. 


Maybe he got roofied?


Maybe he's breaking up with me in the most poetic way ever? He packed the house, he's moved out and theres a note on the table explaining why he doesn't love me. Speaking of #romance. 


Video games? Do men like video games?


But neither of this is true. Because we all know what's coming next. He was dead. There was absolutely no other explanation. I was going to walk into my house with a cold body in the bed and there was no way around it. I braced myself for this reality, melted down. 


Five minutes from home. My heart is racing, I'm sweating, shaking and about to murder the ass hat that wants to go 41 in a 40. I need to get home at 60 mph. 


I peel into my driveway, check the curb, throw er in park and run into the house. I clod hop through the house back to the bedroom, tear open the door and turn the lights on. 


And then I see it. 


His eyes fly open, surprised. 


He's ALIVE? 


I am calm cool collected hysterical. I immediately start bawling and really don't know what do to with myself so I run out to the back yard.


The back yard?


Boyfriend follows me out to the backyard seconds later in his boxies and bed head. In retrospect, I can't imagine what was running through his head. Probably planning the note/moving out/leaving your crazy ass *ASAP*. 


So in my hideous cry face I manage to stammer out, "...WHERE (sob, sob)..HAVE....YOU (sobsobsob) BEEEEEEEEN???"


 "Baby, I've been here. I've been sleeping all day."


"(sob)......you have? (sniffle, sniffle)"


"Yes, what is wrong?"


"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD."


And at this point, it's like moment when you're so worried about someone and then when it's nothing - blind rage. I'm all 'you jackass, you mean you're NOT dead? How dare you. Imsomadatyou." 


We're over it, obviously, since I just wrote 300 words on it. The point is, if you're going to be dead, just be dead. Quit playin' games with my heart. 


And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I cannot have children.