I wasn’t sure if I had a “date” this weekend, since the meek-ass bullshit email I sent him only said “hang out” and he hasn’t used definitive words in our texts, so hey, maybe for him we’re just hanging out as friends.
I met a guy last weekend, and IN MY HEAD, we’ve already been dating (and sleeping together — frequently) for a week.
So…I guess I should probably, like…SAY something to him ever.
He’s a friend of a friend. I’ve ascertained that he’s single and straight. And when I asked, my friend said she’d been hoping I would because she “thought it’d be a good match.”
Now I just need to figure out what the hell is going on in MY head to make sure I don’t end up being totally weird to a friend of a friend…again. Last time this happened, I slept with the dude way too soon, then realized we had nothing in common and ended up pulling The Fadeaway on him.
I’ve spent so much time “not being ready” that I don’t know if I AM ready, or if it’s just my vagina that’s ready, all, “SINGLE DICK AHOY!”
SO. My next therapy appointment isn’t until NEXT week, eh? Mm’kay. That…that’s fine…
“So, Smug, what finally got you off your lazy ass to start working out again? Was it all that free time while you were unemployed? Was it multiple healthcare professionals telling you regular exercise could help you feel less depressed and foggy and gross? Perhaps the fact that all your pants are uncomfortably tight because your thighs look like those big fuckoff turkey legs at Renaissance Faires?”
“Naw. They etched a mythical creature into a piece of shitty fake metal.”
“One of the 24 similarities between girls and fish is that they’re both attracted to shiny objects.”
— Barney Stinson