So.

I got stood up.

*swears profusely*

After 75 minutes aboard the train wondering why my fellow passengers have such an aversion to soap, and a further 25 spent waiting at the station with a meeting of Crack Whores Anonymous (who clearly, weren't so anon.), I was just about ready to call Chicken to tell him I was wasting valuable shopping time and he could meet me in Myer, when he TEXTED me to say he would be unable to attend. Riiiiight.

Let's just say he copped a rather offensive text in return. And another, telling him he owed me a pony.

Just as I was about to stomp my way to the nearest Starbucks (which happens to be my favorite Starbucks, what are the chances?) I received a call from my father. This was strange for two reasons: One - we'd talked in the past few weeks and thus he knew I was still alive and/or not pregnant with twins and living co-dependently with a crack habit and a pimp and Two: I usually call him first, thus making him call me back and saving my phone bill. Bizarre.

But not as weird as what was to follow. He called to tell me he needed to go to hospital to have what is presumed to be bowel cancer checked. More strangely - he asked me to drive him to and from his surgery. I can, quite honestly say, this is the first time my father has asked me for anything (except for maybe all that money back that I owe him).

I said yes, then chose not to dwell on it, for fear of actually comprehending what that might mean. And that would lead to a whole lot of heavy - and probably contradictory - emotions flitting about my skull. So I skulked on to my coffee shop in an attempt to lighten my mood - and, just like all other times, Starbucks did not fail me...

Me: Yes. Hello. I would like a Venti extra dry ginerbread latte with caramel in a holiday cup, please.
Server: Sure! Would you like whipped cream with that?
Me: Absofuckinglutely. I just got stood up. Pile that shit on.
Server: Bastard!
Raging queen barista: (pretending he's a black woman) Mmmhmm girlfriend!
Server: Aw honey, better now than when you're at the altar.
Me: Oh! No. It's not like tha....
Server: No, it never is, because they just can't commit. (Yells my order to the barista). Now honey - never mind the whip - do you want some whiskey with that?

And when my bucket of coffee wore off, and my caffeine hit fizzled, I wandered around my city wallowing in self pity, for reasons I couldn't quite put my finger on. I felt so extremely alone - and that was fine, I would have appreciated some company, but I'm a big girl now; I wasn't scared, or upset that it was just me. It was just realized I was so lonely - sure, I could text Sarah and joke about my coffee experience, or send mock-abusive ones to Chicken for standing me up, but when it came down to it - there was no one there to share what I'm thinking about my Dad, to know that every time I saw a man in a suit my heart gave an involuntary jolt thinking it was Him, or to stand and watch the heavy mist descend upon the city and realize my amazing city's weather was matching my heart.