You’re once, twice, three times a dumper, and I looove you

OH! There you are, Stupeh!

So this is how it went down on Friday night.  No wild drinking for Stupeh of course, but there were mild amounts of awkwardness and what the feelings.  I just wanted to take a shower with Thrice.  That would have been the perfect thing.  But nooooooo, Thrice is out drinking and ready to go completely into party mode.  Don’t get me wrong.  I fully appreciate party mode and all that it can do for the destruction of brain cells and mornings.  The thing is that the last time I partied with Thrice and his friends, I wound up homeless and heartbroken the next day because of making out with some mystery person at The Benchwarmer.  Fast forward four months and I’m being asked to meet him at this bar up the street where all the witnesses to this will be and where I will arrive to Thrice sitting inside of a booth surrounded by them.  I approach the booth which is pretty much full and where he is on the inside and say, ‘hi.’  Everyone including Thrice says hi because they aren’t complete assholes, but he also hasn’t made any effort to get up and greet me, and so I’m left standing there in front of this booth full of people feeling uncomfortable until this other guy scoots over and asks me if I want to sit down.  This is an important moment for congratulating myself that I didn’t just get up and order a bottle of vodka for my brain at the bar.  Also, in-between this and our last public event together, Thrice has been in a short but serious relationship where he was in love, so the weird looks I was getting from his friends were completely justified.  It was kind of a ‘what the fuck is she doing here?’ kind of evening which turned into a ‘what the fuck am I doing here?’ kind of evening.  Each new moment was a flashback to another party time at a bar that led to a shitty morning of wishing for death by a mallot to the brain. 

I’ve got to tell you guys also that soda-water with a splash of pineapple juice does not take the edge off nor does it stop anyone from concerning herself with who her Thrice is texting and or much he is going to drink, or whether this is worth being tired for a double waitress shift the next morning.  It bubbles and is quite refreshing but does nothing for the supression of thoughts.  The recurring thought of the night: am I going down this road again?  I’m not the most on top of my shit person in the world, but my habits and what kind of shit I’m willing to accept as a constant in my life have changed.  I know the answer, and also I know that all my friends and mom are going to read this and want to punch me in the face for considering it, but when I fall in love, I go down hard.  One of the hardest things about changing your life for the better is knowing that you are going to have to leave some of the people you love behind because they just don’t fit in that space anymore.  So I left the bar early that night and stayed up till after last call anyways just pondering everything.

But you guys, maybe a magical fairy will hit him in the head with a wand.  Magical wands make people honest and not party animals, and commited to being awesome and not breaking up with me all the time, right?  Not a day goes by that a magical wand doesn’t hit someone in the head and all of a sudden they are the best person in the universe.  Happens to me anyways.  I mean, I don’t wet the bed anymore, so that has to mean that other people can break their bad habits.

It has been theorized that women make projects out of men because they have low self-esteem or just want to fix people or they just love raising 30-something-year-old children so that they have someone to take a shower with on Friday night.  That’s a real theory.  Women get lonely in the shower.  I don’t think I have low self-esteem.  I’m just kind of pissed that the novel I decided to write may or may not be a remake of a really bad Adam Sandler movie.  That was not what I intended when I started writing it, but learning that that may be happening has really bummed me out and made me feel lonely and dirty.

Whatthefuck.

Nevermind the ramen. Here’s the toilet paper.