Just after he called me on my cell phone to tell me he couldn’t talk, he called again and got my voicemail. I happened to be writing the first Hang it Up! post on my iPhone at the time so his call went straight to voicemail.

This time he left a voicemail message saying he couldn’t talk. Like he needed to reiterate that point?

I got it the first time. Really.

The ironic part is that his voicemail was really long. He took a forever to tell me he couldn’t talk. In fact, he couldn’t stop talking. On and on he went about how he couldn’t talk.

You think I’m kidding. I’m not.

Here’s the voicemail. Listen for yourself:

(Click the Image Below to Play)

HE CALLED TO TELL ME HE COULDN’T TALK.

Why? Why do people call just to say they can’t talk? It’s a waste of a call folks. And, if you’re calling someone with a cell phone, they are charged for you to tell them you really don’t want to talk to them!

Insulted and charged for the insult to boot!

Lee said it and it’s true: Only a Jew would call to say he can’t talk.

Moral: Think before you dial!

Posted from my iPhone.

I really wanted to be in LA for a number of reasons, not the least of which was to put some distance between me and the ex, and to put much needed distance between me and my lovely-yet-overbearing mother.

When reality set in, however, and it occurred to me i needed to be on a flight to LAX almost immediately, I froze. 

After a couple of nerve-wracking days, I finally got an appointment with my therapist (it should be law that every New York City resident MUST see a therapist).  

This, surprisingly made matters worse. All the emotions I was repressing now bubbled up to the surface. My sister, my mother and probably everyone that walked past me that day could see the pain written all over my otherwise happy-go-lucky face (perhaps happy-go-lucky is a slight exaggeration). 

I was what my therapist labelled “being in crisis mode” — which for therapists is like hitting the mother load. I now have to see him twice a week. $$

With much regret, I pulled the plug very last minute on my move to La La Land. I realized it was too quick and was inadequately planned.  I knew I had to finish dealing with the fallout of my breakup and the impact it is having on my business. I hope Old Friend From Los Angeles is not too pissed off at me. I do feel terribly guilty — as it is my cultural imperative to do so. [Edited 2/20/2008: Is Jewish guilt a myth?]

Then there’s Jaffe Cohen, of the Funny Gay Males, the movie “Hit and Runway,” and author of Tush.  Now if you remember from previous blog entries, he has the apartment I was planning to move into.  He and his new roommate Gadi have made that place a third, much-needed home for me. 

So the Mensch Awards go to: Old Friend From Los Angeles and to Jaffe and Gadi.