So when we left the story last, The Headless Doctor was attempting to use his limited phone-typing ability (hope he doesn’t operate on people with those fingers!) to last-minute cancel lunch with SDG for the second time: “Omg ai sent a txt thisa morning aboautA resachaedulingaab”
Naturally, I didn’t waste my time replying but headed straight to the office fridge, realizing that my lunch would have to be foraged rather than bought by a rich doctor. When I returned (with a tragic “at least I won’t leave a lot of corpse for my cat to eat” haul of baby carrots and a flat Diet Coke), I found that THD was not getting what I was giving– that is, the silent treatment goodbye.
“Do you like my pic?” he texted. Then, “Do you have a nice body? What’s your best feature?” WHAT? It’s odd enough, THD, that you’re standing me up and wanting to text dirty at 11 am, but have you already forgotten that your excuse was an emergency trauma patient? Some poor soul is spurting blood everywhere (probably including on your phone, which would explain the typing), and you want to read about my boobs?
(Or my legs? Or my eyes? Just because I’m not planning to answer doesn’t mean I won’t waste a lot of time contemplating the best response.)
I knew what I had to do. Despite the increasing likelihood that THD and I were fated to have 2.1 adorable children together (extra .1 is our son’s killer abs), no dedicated medical reporter and lawyer’s daughter could be party to this kind of malpractice. So I admitted my mind was my best feature. And he wrote back, “LOL.”