To discuss what went terribly, terribly wrong...(Part 2)

It’s taken me longer than I thought to continue this harrowing story. That’s due, in part, to all the work needed to get that sweet Q&A going yesterday- Haute and I wrote and edited nearly 4,400 words combined for that sucker. Good God, what were we thinking? I do hope you enjoyed it- if you’d like me to continue doing my own Q&A in future weeks, let me know or e-mail questions to wildarschase@yahoo.com. I’ll try to get an e-mail link going in the sidebar as well. Oh, and shower Haute with praise on her site. She’s fragile.
I went back and forth on whether to write about Sunday, so as not to be a total jerk to people involved, even if they aren’t named. I decided to take the journalist’s approach and stick to the facts, letting you form your own opinion. Also- I'm not one for trashing people on a freakin' blog- if you know me in real life, realize I'm not just waiting for you to mess up so I can blog about it... I've got enough of my own problems to write about.
If you need to catch up, here's Part One: To Discuss what went right...

Back to shattered flowers and dreams...
When we last talked about my weekend, I had finished a very pleasant outing with Ladyfriend on Saturday, complete with my usual trademark “Did I just say that?” comments.
Sunday was full of promise. After coming home from church, I confirmed plans with XXX (not her real name), another cool girl I had recently talked to over the phone, but had not yet met in person. We were going to watch the Steelers’ game together at my place in front of my extremely large flatscreen TV*. I rushed home to clean up the place and make it smell all nice and un-boy like.
The game started at 1 p.m. XXX said she had left a few minutes prior to that, meaning she should arrive around 1:30sh, coming about 25-30 miles away. A timeline:
1:30 p.m. Steelers 7, Texans 0, Andy, alone.
1:45 p.m. Steelers 14, Texans 0, Andy, still alone and making a call to see if she’s lost.
2:15 p.m. Steelers 21, Texans 3, Andy a little worried because she’s not answering her phone.
2:45 p.m. Third quarter, Steelers 35, Texans 3, Andy now legitimately worried after several unanswered phone calls
3:30 p.m. Fourth quarter, Steelers 38, Texans 10, Andy now convinced he’s caused the death of XXX
4 p.m. Game over, Steelers crush Texans 38-17, Andy now has no idea where XXX is or why she isn’t answering or letting him know what happened.
5:30 p.m. After convincing himself she’s alright, I (we’re back in first person now) decide to get out of the house so I’m not just staring at my dog, waiting. I leave a last voicemail- number 2- telling her I was out but hoping she was OK and that she’d call soon to let him know what’s going on.
5:45 p.m. XXX texts to say she got rear-ended by some old, scary dude soon after she left, and her phone had died, so she couldn’t contact me. Everything makes sense now, glad she’s OK. Since she had a bad afternoon and it was partially linked to me, I offer to cheer her up by driving up to her place to keep her company and get her mind off of things. I tell her I’ll likely get there around 8:30 p.m.
8:10 p.m. Andy (third person again- I switch literary devices like underwear) is a mile or two down the road when XXX texts to say she needs an extra 30 minutes so she can stop at a co-worker’s house to pick something up.
8:15 p.m. Andy, an amiable gent, texts back that he’ll get there at 9 instead. Moments later, XXX texts back that 9 isn’t enough time, causing Andy to wonder how an extra 30 minutes past 8:30 p.m. does not equal 9 p.m. Andy writes back, 9:30?
The last text is critical, friends, as you’ll find out.
Andy spent the next hour picking up flowers- friends, dates or whomever it is, anyone can get flowers if they need cheering up- and driving to XXX’s place. It took less time than he expected, so Andy killed some time in his car after arriving watching episodes of The Office** on his laptop, which he had with him.
9:30 p.m. Andy calls XXX to tell her he’s here. Although she had not texted back before, Andy figured that 9:30 should be more than enough time, considering she said she only needed an extra 30 minutes or so.... Ring. Ring. No answer. Voice mail. “Hey XXX, just letting you know I’m around, let me know when you get back.”
9:45 p.m. Andy, sitting in silence, decides he might as well go knock on XXX’s door in case she already was home. The following exchange took place:
Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Andy, looking for XXX?
" XXX who?" A random, shirtless dude replies.
XXX. Is she home?
Naw, man, XXX doesn’t live here. (no one said random shirtless dude was good at telling jokes)

Andy, now utterly confused, calls XXX to make sure he’s not in the wrong freakin' area. Again, no answer, which, in a Verizon commercial would go, “Can you hear me now?” followed by, “No I can’t #@%&*% hear you, no one is answering &%#$.”
10:10 p.m. Now getting frustrated, sitting in silence, not sure if he’s at the right place or if XXX actually exists, Andy grabs some food at the Sheetz station*** and calls his ex-fiance to explain the situation and double-check his sanity. Ex-fiance reassures him that he’s not crazy and that maybe he should wait a little longer, and then peace out. Ex-fiance, as always, is wise.
10:30 p.m. Andy, now back in the parking lot of XXX’s supposed housing complex, steals the Internet signal from some unsuspecting neighbor not smart enough to use a passcode (seriously, dude. That’s not smart). He wastes some time checking blogs and Twittering with the lovely MissTiff. Another call, another text. No reply.
10:45 p.m. Andy is now once again concerned he has caused the death of XXX.
10:45 p.m. Andy leaves one final, and as it turns out, fatalistic voice mail, using a slightly caustic tone to vent his underlying frustration that XXX hasn’t let him know anything about what’s going on, even just to say she’s running late or can’t make it or that she’s dead and he’ll have to reschedule. No expletives or raised voice were used, but it wasn’t sugary sweet, either.
11 p.m. Andy wishes it was Saturday again. Ladyfriend, already a nice person, is coming out like roses now.
11:45 p.m. Andy is back home, picking up at...
... Andy looked at the flower bouquet in the passenger seat. Silently, for everything that night was about silence, he picked up the flowers, got out of his car parked by his apartment, walked calmly to a nearby dumpster and bashed those motherf'rs in one, sweet blow to the ground before tossing in the remaining stem carcass, as petals fluttered in the air like Forrest Gump's feather.
Monday
11:22 a.m. XXX is alive! That’s the first and foremost concern alleviated. Good. Bad stuff, though. XXX texts that she’s fine but that Andy’s last voice mail made her not want to talk to him last night. Mind you, the last voice mail was at 10:45 p.m., well after the meeting time and after an earlier voice mail asking if she was ok.
A series of texts go back and forth, leading to an actual call (texting, as it turns out, is truly the devil).
XXX explains that she didn’t like Andy’s tone (somewhat understandable), that she had unknowingly left her phone in her car when visiting her co-worker, that she didn’t want to just quickly run in and out of said co-workers house and be “rude,” and that she didn’t think Andy would leave his place because she hadn’t confirmed the 9:30 p.m. time.
(This is the vitriolic part I’m leaving out- I try to give people the benefit of the doubt... Now you, you might not. So come to your own conclusions).
The icing on the three-layer, double-fudge cake is that Knock Knock dude, as it turns out, is XXX’s roommate. Yes, that dude lied to my face- he told XXX he didn’t know me, so instead of dealing with me he just made something up, and they had a good chuckle over it.

Well... um... at least the Steelers won.

* Some guys overcompensate by driving large cars or owning large dogs. I have a large flat screen. My overcompensation has brilliant colors and resolution, HDMI outputs and HD capability. My overcompensation is better.
** OK, so it was that sweet Halloween episode where Michael tries to fire someone, but he can't go through with it, and Jim and Pam send Dwight's resume to other companies, leading Dwight to ask a potential employer what his resume says under "Martial Arts Training." Classic.
*** Sheetz, for those outside the PA/WV region is a gas station mecca that includes touch-screen food ordering that is so well-made and delicious that people go there just to eat. Recognize.