Well it’s an amazing Monday morning here in hell. Somehow I managed to make it through the weekend after I was put to shame on the cross of singledom. More on that in a bit.
My weekend kicked off with a lonely night—I went to a concert ALONE. Yep, like a fucking loser. I was planning to go to the show with Slutsky and another girlfriend, but needless to say I didn’t want anything to do with Slutsky and my other friend backed out at the last minute. I had already bought my ticket AND it’s one of my favorite bands, so I still wanted to go. Once, I got there, I figured no one would notice I was there alone because the place was packed. I grabbed a beer and found a spot behind a group of people and everything was fine…
“So you’ve been standing by yourself for the last 4 minutes…what’s up with that?”
Me: “You gotta problem with it?”
“No, I was just curious…”
Me: “I’m a big girl, I can stand by myself.”
“You can stand with us.”
Me: “I don’t need a pity party.”
I ended up standing with them and they were cool, but damn, I didn’t think it was that obvious that I was alone. Anyway, I’m still glad I went to the show because it was one of their best performances. Everything was going good until the last song, things started to get pretty wild. Mid-song, the singer is looking down into the front row and says, “Stop! We need a medic up here…no, seriously this girl is hurt.” He then motions for this girl to get on stage, so she climbs up there and everything seems cool.
Until she turned around to face the crowd. Her face was covered in blood. From my spot, I thought she was missing her left eye. The entire venue let out a huge gasp, then screams. The girl was ushered off the stage and got help. From what I heard later, she had a gash above her eyebrow, possibly from being pushed into the stage or a speaker. Talk about a buzz kill though—I do not handle blood well, so I was glad the concert was over.
On the drive home, I had reached my emotional limit. For some reason that’s unbeknownst to me, I’ve been having dreams and flashbacks of my ex all week and it’s awful. I want him to go away so bad. Can Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind really happen? Because I need it. I guess spending a night out alone wasn’t really a great idea, but at least I’m trying. I made it home and fell asleep for a few hours, until my phone rang—my new guy. We talked for a bit and he ended the conversation as such:
“Well it’s almost 5 am, I will call you tomorrow when I wake up.”
Me: “Sounds good, bye.”
After doing random shit around my apartment Saturday, I hear from the new guy at 4 pm. Really? Considering he had to work at 6, I went on with my day as usual. However, thoughts started creeping in my head. My dating history is filled with bullshit like this. As Gizzy reminded me yesterday, I’m attracted to guys who work hard—sometimes too hard. I’d say 85% of my failed relationships are because the guy says he is just too busy for me (read: he’s just not that into me).
Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to see the person I’m dating everyday. However, seeing them once a week and getting blown off because he’s “too tired” is completely lame and I’m so sick of hearing it.
I had plans to go out with one of my girlfriends that night and the new guy said he would put us on the list at his bar. I went out with my girl, but she decided to bolt early to go see her boyfriend. Awesome. However, my friend Morgan (who’s a guy) said he was out and wanted to meet up. When I find him, he’s with two guys I’ve never met. I tell them we should go to the bar because I promised my guy I’d go see him. So I find New Guy and get a beer, then sit at a table with Morgan & Co. I wondered if NG would be mad that I brought guys in…however, he’s made it clear that we aren’t exclusive, so I didn’t feel like I needed to answer to him. To my surprise, NG brings over a round of free shots for us—I figure all is good.
Then I go to pay my tab, because the bar is closing.
NG: You look pissed.
Me: No, I’m just a little paranoid about driving home.
NG: Why, are you wasted?
Me: No, but I’ve had a few beers.
NG: Oh, well, what are you about to do tonight?
Me: It’s 2:15. I’m about to go home and sleep.
NG: Well, my phone is dead. And I’ll probably get home around 5 or 6, right ladies? (gestures to female bartenders)
Me: Ok, well…
NG: It was good seeing you.
Ummm WHAT THE FUCK?!?! It was good seeing you? We’ve seen each other naked and THAT’S what I get? I was totally confused. Either he’s fucking the other bartenders, or…he’s fucking the other bartenders. I went home and went to bed—I had a bridal show to wake up for.
In the morning, I met up with my girlfriend who is getting married. Even my cynical self is very happy for her, and since I’m going to be in her wedding, I want to be helpful, so I jumped at the chance to go to this bridal show. Once we got there, we had to register. We gave her our tickets and the humiliation began.
“Which one of you is getting married?”
“Ok I need you to fill this out. Name, e-mail address, and the date of the wedding.”
GF fills out the form, reaching the end, where the wedding date goes.
GF: (mumbling to self) “It’s July, ok 7, July 8th, 20…11. Geez I can’t even remember my own wedding date!”
Keep in mind that my friend has only been engaged for about a month. But at this moment, the lady at the registry desk was in utter shock that someone, could not remember the date of her wedding. Once her breath came back, she gave the us the appropriate wrist bands—hot pink for the bride-to-be…
And green for the slimy single girl.
Seriously. God fucking dammit.
As my friend Buttons said, “Why didn’t they just give you brown, like you’re a piece of shit?!”
Once we entered the bridal show, I saw the wristbands in action. Pink, to the vendors, meant money. So my friend was hounded by vendors, food, and giveaways. While, I on the other hand, was reaching for the wedding cake samples with my non-branded arm. Because my arm may has well be rotting off with disease, since I’m obviously a hideous mutant who is NEVER going to get married, so no I shouldn’t try your chocolate covered strawberries, or your raspberry champagne, or get a free Bridal magazine. I needed to get out.
I was relieved when it was over. I went home and had a text-chat with NG.
Me: I feel like you aren’t a huge fan of me at the moment
NG: Honestly, I feel like I barely have enough time for myself right now, let alone a girlfriend. I like you, I’ve just been spread out really thin lately.
Me: Do you not want to talk anymore?
NG: Of course I do 🙂
WHAT IN THE FUCK? That’s just fucking brilliant. NG wants to go to dinner tonight, but I can’t say I’m up for it. What’s the point of trying to hang out with someone who clearly doesn’t like me enough to make time for me. Thoughts?
In the meantime, I’m gonna go wash my arm.