Still driving around Baltimore, waiting for a phone call....

I looked fabulous. Without even trying. Okay, without looking like I tried. Straight hair, crooked part, just enough wax holding it in place. Skinny jeans teamed with pink ribbed sweater -- accentuating the waist and the boobs. Black hoody, since it was 39 degrees when I left Ithaca in the dark. Black shoes. Just a touch of mascara and eye-liner.

The drive was easy. I didn't see a cop until I crossed the Mason-Dixon line (the Pennsylvania-Maryland border). I stopped for a potty break and to get gas around 10:45, about a half hour north of Baltimore. I called J, and told him exactly that.

"Hey, I'm in Harford county. I should be there in about a half hour."

"Cool. Call me when you get in the city, and we'll meet somewhere."

So, I rode down I-83, the Jones-Falls Expressway, seeing all sorts of things that looked so familiar and so foreign at the same time. This wasn't my home, anymore. And honestly, it never felt like my home, even when I lived here.

I was amazed by all the construction north of Little Italy. What was once slums are soon to be high-priced condos, I imagine. But here I was, in the city. I dialed J's office number. Got his voice mail. Hmmm....dialed his cell phone, got his voice mail there as well. I left a message, gave him my cell number again.

I pulled over by the water and waited. I called his office again, getting voice mail again, but this time leaving a message. And waited. About a half hour later, I called the main number and talked to the receptionist. She said he was tied up in a meeting. I explained we were meeting for lunch, 45 minutes ago, and could I speak to his assistant.

The assistant got on the phone. I relayed my dilemma again. She told me to hang on, coming back with a message that J would call me back in 5 minutes. I gave him 10, and then headed to Richmond. He never did call back.

I left him a message on Friday, saying that I hoped everything was okay, and that if it was, I was pissed and he owed me. Big time.

I guess I can't be mad until I know that nothing horrible happened. And really, I'm not a person that gets mad. Maybe that makes me a push-over. Probably. Oh well...

The funny thing about all of this -- I'm not sure if I'm more disappointed that I didn't get to see J, or that J didn't get to see me. Ego? Sure. I'll admit it. I look good -- and he hasn't seen me in over a year. So, hell yea, I wanted him to see me. And tell me how good I look.

And what would that have accomplished? Nothing, but making me feel good. A few chits for the self-confidence meter.