The definition of insanity.

According to my therapist, the reason I don’t give a shit about hooking up with J isn’t because I’m crazy or heartless…it’s because I’m in a very “confusing” time in my life right now.

One one hand, I’m glad that I don’t care because I don’t want to get wrapped up in a guy, but on the other hand, this behavior is so unlike me, and it makes me feel weird and confused.

C’est la vie.

I accepted this reason, and then didn’t feel so bad for acting like a slut bag. I met up with the group, including J, on Friday for the usual festivities, but to my horror, he somehow ended up right back at my apartment where we were last Friday night.

DAMN.

However, we didn’t even kiss. We just drank, did some Googling on Kurt Cobain’s death (Courtney did it), and went to sleep. The next day however, we met back up with the group and did some SERIOUS drinking, and all paths were leading to the bed.

Don’t worry, we didn’t have sex.

We did make out though, only this time, I really didn’t feel a damn thing. Like nothing. In fact, I just wanted to go to sleep.

And you know what else? He has a small penis.

There. I said it.

He jokes (while in bed) about it being small, saying there is no shaft, its just a head attached to balls, and you know what? It almost is.

Anyway, I feel like a really huge bitch now, so I’m going to go ahead and leave you with that.

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2 thoughts on “The definition of insanity.

  1. Matthew says:

    Well, I left my other comment before reading this…so I’m at least glad you’ve gained a little additional perspective on the entire thing.

  2. Haha yeah, I gained perspective, and then threw it to the wind I suppose. UGH. -L

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