All's Not Fair in Love and War Pg. 4

No position on my bed feels right. I'm tossing and turning and the music blaring from my headphones can't get any louder to drown the thoughts emanating from my head. Best hasn't called me back. I've been trying to reach him but I can't blame him. He was probably waiting for me in that bar for over two hours. I looked at my phone the following morning after we were supposed to meet up, the morning after Doe came back, three missed calls. For most men, three calls is only 1/4th of how many times they would try to reach a girl. But not Best. Best is different. And three times was a lot coming from him. Three, and all spaced out. Which means, he waited. Doe went for breakfast over an hour ago. He should be on his way by now. He has been back for only six days, not even a week, and already we had an argument. "What do we need condoms for?"  "Don't you trust me?" and "We didn't use condoms the night I came back." I didn't even respond. I held out for a day or two before he got the point... He got the point. And he knew better than to throw my infertility into the argument. Laying here, looking around the room, it's almost as if nothing had changed, as if he never left. I don't know if that's a good thing or a worse thing. At least everything is clean. We did the laundry yesterday and took all his things out of the laundry room. Of course, nothing is folded but at least there's a "clean linen" scent in the air. If only I could find my socks. Such is the metaphor of my life. The man finds everything he lost and gains maybe even more.... I can't even find a pair of socks.