Tonight I’m going to a party where I may or may not see Guy I Dated for a Minute, and I officially hate my brain and its tendency to overthink. Mostly because it’s overthinking the fact that HE’s likely not overthinking a goddamn thing.
I should mention: I am fully aware he tapped — heh — into some things in my brain he couldn’t POSSIBLY have known about. I could’ve behaved differently, so I know it’s not totally his fault that he’s a giant bitch-baby.
New Jersey’s gettin’ a li’l hurricaney this weekend, so yesterday I got an email from the Inflatable 5K I’m supposed to run tomorrow and they’re like, “Fuck you, we’re still doing it, unless there’s lightning.”
And I thought, “Eat a dick, you blowup doll of races.”
But then they emailed today and said, “OK, FINE, you little bitch-baby, you can transfer races and do another one. Coward.”