|
And now
I'm sitting on the couch feeling very stupid.
I'm sure the many glasses of merlot I've consumed have
not helped. It's
late, like after 1am, and I'm guessing he's not coming over.
He's not coming over. He's
not. He's pissed at
me and he's not coming over.
You're being punished, and you deserve it.
You know you do.
I
mean, I know I could call and say it's okay to come over.
I'm not mad. I don't
care if it's 1am in the morning, I'd still like to see you.
No, even better, I should go over there.
It's 1am and I can't sleep because I was missing you so, and I
wanted to apologize in person instead of the phone, because that's how
they do it on Sex & The City, and I wanna be as good as a TV show, I
wanna be better than a TV show, I wanna be better than real life.
But then again,
showing up at his door at 1am would kind of prove the whole pathetic
clingy stereotype, wouldn't it?
|
|
And
technically, I'd be a pathetic clingy DRUNK person stereotype, and to
open the door to something like THAT would just ensure that I'd never
see him again. Never ever
ever.
I don't wanna
go over because I'm scared he won't be there at 1am in the morning.
And if I confronted him on it, which I have no right to do, then
he'll say he was still helping his friend move.
And I won't believe him. And
it'll be the end. So I guess
my consolation prize is to pass out on the couch.
Oh joy. Some people
can only dream. I LIVE the
reality.
|
