Inner Monologue About Long-Lost Friend

During the weekend after Christmas, I thought I might get a call from my long-lost best friend from high school. Her sister lives here in town, and I ran into her while shopping a few days before Christmas. My long-lost friend lives about 10 hours from here, and she was going to be driving in to stay the entire weekend, which is much longer than she usually stays, Long-Lost's sister told me that day. I gave her my phone number, even though she may have already had it, and she put it into her cell phone.
I said to tell Long-Lost that she could call if she wanted to, but I know that it will be busy there, as her parents would be there as well, and there will probably be a house full of children. I said something to reassure her that I would not feel bad if she didn't call, as in "I won't get my hopes up," which I meant to do for myself. Well, I was by myself all day Saturday, washing piles of much-neglected laundry. I kept walking past my cell phone while I was putting away the clothes, telling myself not to look if she had called, not to wonder if I had missed her call, not to imagine where we would go if we were going to meet. I hadn't seen her in 11 years. In 1997, I met her for a few hours when I went to the beach in South Carolina, where she lived at the time. In 2001 or 2002 I had talked to her on the phone a few times. In 2002, 2003, and 2005, I think, she wrote to me a few times by e-mail, but all the e-mail addresses she used to write to me no longer work. She lives a long, long way away, but I think that we were close enough that she would want to see me after all this time. We spent all three years of high school, virtually inseparable, a zillion inside jokes, a lot of fun, and a few fights, all of which probably led to the demise of our friendship.
By Saturday evening, I had already gotten my hopes up, as much as I urged myself not to. A whole lot of thoughts were crossing my inner monologue, and I could not get them to stop.
Inner Monologue: "Her parents hated me. I spent way too much time at their house. Once I dropped ice on the floor and her dad stepped in the cold puddle of water it left and he got really mad. And I was a bad friend. If I had been a better friend, she would have been excited to call and would have called already."
Response: I don't want to think that way. She's undoubtedly really busy with family.
Inner Monologue: "I should not have even given her my phone number. I should have just told her sister to tell Long-Lost I said hello."
Response: It was inevitable that I was going to feel bad. I should just admit defeat and move on and feel better.
Inner Monologue: "If I had not given my phone number to her sister, I would have felt guilty about it later and wondered if I should have given it to her."
Response: Giving the phone number to her was the right thing to do. If I had not given my phone number to her sister, I would have wondered if I would have seen and talked to her if I had given her my phone number. It's probably for the best that it happened this way.
Inner Monologue: "Maybe for some reason she's embarrassed about seeing me, like having gained 145 pounds or she has a really bad haircut."
Response: Really, Long-Lost friend might think like that. However, I already know she hasn't gained 145 pounds. She probably never feels like she has bad haircuts. And if we were friends, which we were, that wouldn't matter and she wouldn't let that stop her.
Inner Monologue: "Maybe too much time has gone by for her to feel any loyalty or sentimentality for the friendship we had that pretty much ended in 1991."
Response: That's not true for everyone who has long-lost friends.
Inner Monologue: "Maybe she lost my phone number?"
Inner Monologue: "Maybe her sister forgot to tell her?"
Inner Monologue: "Why am I obsessing over this? Why can't I stop?"
Response: You will stop obsessing about this by Monday. It will no longer be important in a few days. Maybe you are not in touch with her anymore because you were not meant to stay friends, or even having been friends in the first place. Maybe it was just a bad friendship, no matter whose fault it was.
By Sunday, I had stopped checking my cell phone as often and had accepted that she wasn't going to call.
"Surely she will appreciate the fact that I did something to reach out?"
"Am I a bad friend? Is that why I'm home all day by myself doing laundry?"
Enter, Reassuring Neutral Friend: You were not a bad friend. You are funny, smart, kind, and thoughtful, although people can be intimidated by you at times because of your combined beauty and intelligence. That's right, you're just too good for her.
Me: What? The snob technique? That's the biggest cop-out. Pathetic.
Reassuring Neutral Friend: OK, you're not too good for her. She should have called. Maybe she will call eventually. You just need to stop thinking about it.
Me: OK, I will. Eventually.