ohh GODDD

Ok, ok, ok. Just about to leave for the day but HAD to tell someone (so, myself) about what just happened.

Those who have been tuning in from the beginning, remember Abdahl? the sweet, one liner joke from the first post? he's back. back with a vengeance, and possibly with access to the key to my room.

To fill you in quickly, Abdahl was the moroccan boy who works at the hotel I'm staying in. He greeted me when I arrived after travelling for a million hours. He offered me a tuna wrap. I took it. He offered to show me around Manhatten that night. I said no, I was tired. (i was. but also, he had mentioned he only had 2 friends, and not to be a friend snob, but at that moment in time, I wasn't up for a two-friender, ok?) There it ended. or so I thought.

The next day, he asked me out to Manhatten again. the problem is, I KNOW NO ONE IN NEW YORK. he knows this. I know this. there are very few excuses in the world that involve no one but yourself. Try it yourself as a fun exercise.
'ohh I can't, I'm.. watching a film... alone'
'Sorry but I think i'm giving birth then...'
etc.
I pulled the 'ohh I don't know what i'm doing..' card. so he asked me to phone him. I, being polite said ok maybe, we'll see what happens. Surely, i thought, it really doesn't matter. Or perhaps the tuna wrap thing was a Moroccan rite of marriage I didn't know about, in which case, it really really does.

So. that brings me to this morning.
There I am, chomping away on breakfast (god i love breakfast) when suddenly, out of no-where, likely a springy puma, is Abdahl. Looking at me. With anger in his Moroccan eyes. 'Oh hi!' I say, with a mouthful of egg. No really, i had to chew for what seemed like FAR too many silent seconds as the glare well.. glared at me. there is a pause.
'You didn't call me' says Abdhal (i SWEAR to god, this is all true).
I'm slightly taken aback, but recover with the grace of the British
'oh, well, sorry, I couldnt really work out the phone in my room, and it was a bit late, so I thought-'
'You could have gone down to the front desk and asked them to dial for you'
'oh. erm. yes. I suppose. But as I said, it was 8 o clock, i'm still trying to fix my body to work to this countries time ahahahaaaha (small egg explosion)'
silence.
I try again 'But anyway, I'm off to work today, so not sure when I'll be back, they might keep me pretty late...'
more silence, then he says, slowly and (perhaps to my imagination, with slight menace) 'so, we won't get to see each other?'
now this one floors me. you just DON'T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT. god i miss the wonderful lovely sub-text of England.
I reply with 'ohhh I don't know ahahaha just so hard to know where i'll be as I don't have a schedule yet ahahaha... so... how come your not at University today?'- just desperately trying to move on, and he comes back with
'YOU KNOW I'm not GOING this semester!'
cripes.
So, i say what any warm blooded, vivacious, corner fighting Brit would say, which was
'I'm just going to get some more orange juice'.

oh dear oh dear. Any suggestions for the next move?