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Mar. 7th, 2006 10:54 pmIt's bedtime, and I still haven't managed to shake this feeling of melancholy. I just don't feel good right now. I felt good yesterday, but it was short-lived, it faded before I got home last night. And the funk has stayed with me.
You know how you sometimes hate even mentioning something, because everyone will roll their eyes and sigh, and walk away? I'm not going to talk about who is or isn't at work. Or why they might not be there. I've given up caring about him, so I'm moving on. You know how I keep reminding myself that I don't care any more? I remember things he said that weren't blatantly directed at me. You know those underhanded insults that people can say, to get their digs in? And if you confront them they can say "What? That wasn't referring to you!" Bullshit. My insult of choice this week is a comment he made about women with thin hair. This from a man who is giving Gallagher a run for his money.
Oh yeah, Anita. Moving on. Six line paragraph of moving fucking on.
I am going to a bar Friday night, with a guy I've talked to a few times online. I hate bars, but this one is quote-unquote BBW friendly. I hate bars. Did I say that? Good. Cause I do. I hate them twice. Why am I going? Because I never get out of this fucking house, that's why. And even that is better than nothing. I think. A couple hours, a drink or two, nothing ventured nothing gained. Poor Danny keeps thinking that something else is going to happen. But it's not. He's blond, and reminds me of my cousin's husband. And I'm a horrid snobby bitch for even caring about his hair color, right? Fuck it. He just doesn't flip the switch. MIGHT be going to Logan County to get laid Saturday. We shall see. That fellow DOES flip my switch, but of course it's just swinging, not relationship material.
Stop? Or keep swinging? Stop? Keep swinging? I don't know. I can't decide.
Actually talked with Books A Million guy this evening. Is there something broken in me? I have this thing about starting conversations. I HATE it. Won't hardly do it. Don't speak unless you're spoken to. Goes double for men. So we had the whole "great sex the other night" conversation. And I can't decide if I'm glad we talked, or if I feel badly because I initiated the fucking conversation!! What the FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? My BRAIN IS BROKEN!! Haven't talked with Sam, am not holding my breath. If he comes in, he'll call. There's no doubt in my mind. And if I dwell on him too much, I'll get all emotionally entangled.
Haven't talked with the other guy - the LJ guy - yet. Thought about calling him, but I can't remember what time is too late. And truth is, I don't like to call guys. Don't speak unless you're spoken to again. Broken brain, broken brain. I should quit thinking about him - this is one of those situations where I build it up in my mind when there's nothing present in reality. I've GOT to stop that. I've been doing that all my fucking life.
What we anticipate rarely ever happens. Words to live by.
You know how you sometimes hate even mentioning something, because everyone will roll their eyes and sigh, and walk away? I'm not going to talk about who is or isn't at work. Or why they might not be there. I've given up caring about him, so I'm moving on. You know how I keep reminding myself that I don't care any more? I remember things he said that weren't blatantly directed at me. You know those underhanded insults that people can say, to get their digs in? And if you confront them they can say "What? That wasn't referring to you!" Bullshit. My insult of choice this week is a comment he made about women with thin hair. This from a man who is giving Gallagher a run for his money.
Oh yeah, Anita. Moving on. Six line paragraph of moving fucking on.
I am going to a bar Friday night, with a guy I've talked to a few times online. I hate bars, but this one is quote-unquote BBW friendly. I hate bars. Did I say that? Good. Cause I do. I hate them twice. Why am I going? Because I never get out of this fucking house, that's why. And even that is better than nothing. I think. A couple hours, a drink or two, nothing ventured nothing gained. Poor Danny keeps thinking that something else is going to happen. But it's not. He's blond, and reminds me of my cousin's husband. And I'm a horrid snobby bitch for even caring about his hair color, right? Fuck it. He just doesn't flip the switch. MIGHT be going to Logan County to get laid Saturday. We shall see. That fellow DOES flip my switch, but of course it's just swinging, not relationship material.
Stop? Or keep swinging? Stop? Keep swinging? I don't know. I can't decide.
Actually talked with Books A Million guy this evening. Is there something broken in me? I have this thing about starting conversations. I HATE it. Won't hardly do it. Don't speak unless you're spoken to. Goes double for men. So we had the whole "great sex the other night" conversation. And I can't decide if I'm glad we talked, or if I feel badly because I initiated the fucking conversation!! What the FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? My BRAIN IS BROKEN!! Haven't talked with Sam, am not holding my breath. If he comes in, he'll call. There's no doubt in my mind. And if I dwell on him too much, I'll get all emotionally entangled.
Haven't talked with the other guy - the LJ guy - yet. Thought about calling him, but I can't remember what time is too late. And truth is, I don't like to call guys. Don't speak unless you're spoken to again. Broken brain, broken brain. I should quit thinking about him - this is one of those situations where I build it up in my mind when there's nothing present in reality. I've GOT to stop that. I've been doing that all my fucking life.
What we anticipate rarely ever happens. Words to live by.
