“I’ll see you soon,” he said, lying, “Yep. uh-huh. Gotta run. Yep. Running late. yes. must go. bye.”
He hung up the phone and let out a relieved sigh. He took a moment, darting into a doorway on the street to get out of the path of the other speed walking commuters around him. Why did he let himself get in situations like this? Why couldn’t he be stronger, and just be honest? How did he get another installment in the “desperate stalker of the month club”? Why couldn’t he just have a couple of dates of shamelessly hot sex, and then tell them the truth? He didn’t want a boyfriend. He despised the “L” word, particularly after just two dates. Love was simply not what he was looking for.
He would wimp out and write an email later. He felt like such a coward.