It's a long, long road...
Things have been on the up-and-up lately, so no need to blog and vent. Hence my absence. Lo siento, mis amigos, lo siento. On the up-and-up indeed, until last night when things came to a screeching hault. I have decided that not only do I "have a passion for the written word" (Thank you, Chali...) but I am dramatic.
Last night was one of those nights that would have been in a movie. Dating guy for about 2 months, he is trying to be cool in front of his borderline retarded friends at the local watering hole, of which I am unaccustomed to and I am the relatively new GF in the group. I go to the bathroom and come out and they are discussing me in "Guy Code" (which, HELLO, I am trained in having 3 brothers and 27 years of experience- feeble minded fools. They didn't know I use my Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder Ring for good AND evil. "Drink your Ovaltine, my ace!") Just as my blood starts to boil from their blatant conversation ABOUT ME, the bartender almost knowingly arrives with a glass of Pinio Grigio that Directionless bought for me without asking and I look at my friend V, mouth "I gotta go" and make my wonderfully dramatic exit. It was so Felicity Porter. What? I even made dramatic phone calls and super-upset texts (even this morning) about the events. Bottomline- Wah wah wah.
Yeah, so I have decided to keep Directionless around to see how women feel who have stupid boyfriends/spouses. I wonder how many times he'll text me unrequitedly. Let's consider this a social experiment. This is like the ultimate Practice Page Packet because I can try out all the chapters in one guy. Like "My boyfriend doesn't really have a job" "My boyfriend's a little bit racist", and "My boyfriend only likes to have conversations in text messages because he is an idiot." (The best comment was when someone said "Does he read this?" hahahahahahahha. HE CAN'T READ, SILLY!)
I am out. It's Thursday and I gotta playdate with the bottle.
Last night was one of those nights that would have been in a movie. Dating guy for about 2 months, he is trying to be cool in front of his borderline retarded friends at the local watering hole, of which I am unaccustomed to and I am the relatively new GF in the group. I go to the bathroom and come out and they are discussing me in "Guy Code" (which, HELLO, I am trained in having 3 brothers and 27 years of experience- feeble minded fools. They didn't know I use my Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder Ring for good AND evil. "Drink your Ovaltine, my ace!") Just as my blood starts to boil from their blatant conversation ABOUT ME, the bartender almost knowingly arrives with a glass of Pinio Grigio that Directionless bought for me without asking and I look at my friend V, mouth "I gotta go" and make my wonderfully dramatic exit. It was so Felicity Porter. What? I even made dramatic phone calls and super-upset texts (even this morning) about the events. Bottomline- Wah wah wah.
Yeah, so I have decided to keep Directionless around to see how women feel who have stupid boyfriends/spouses. I wonder how many times he'll text me unrequitedly. Let's consider this a social experiment. This is like the ultimate Practice Page Packet because I can try out all the chapters in one guy. Like "My boyfriend doesn't really have a job" "My boyfriend's a little bit racist", and "My boyfriend only likes to have conversations in text messages because he is an idiot." (The best comment was when someone said "Does he read this?" hahahahahahahha. HE CAN'T READ, SILLY!)
I am out. It's Thursday and I gotta playdate with the bottle.
posted by j-digs at 11:37 AM
1 Comments:
You gotta explore the shallow end of the gene pool every now and again in order to get a bearing on what you want. So, yeah, you date a bozo or two. If you're lucky, they're really good looking bozos (a lot of beautiful people are) so at least the scenery is pretty even if you're going nowhere. I thought you dropped directionless; you are most generous for giving him a second chance, a third chance, a fourth chance? (How many is it actually?) It's hard to tell the difference between staying with someone because, despite their fuck ups, you may really like them and staying with someone because it truly is a wicked world out there, full of drunks and whores and insurance salespeople. It's a hard line to draw, it has to do with being able to tell if you're just being too sensitive or you've just been handed a shit salad with diarrhea dressing that you really should throw back in the chef's face. This guy's skating on thin ice like he has pontoons strapped to his feet.
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