Yes, a 6-pack of Budweiser Select 55 is currently sitting on my desk. Well, there are actually only 4 left, plus a half-eaten bag of practically butterless Act II popcorn. Oh, and on my computer screen is 3 minutes of a movie started on Netflix that I no longer feel like watching.
A boy is at fault. Well, I guess that's unfair. Multiple boys are at fault, plus the fact that I don't really have friends here and so I went out shopping with graduation money that should be in my account but my card got declined for insufficient funds at the bar so now I'm thinking . . . wtf, PNC? But we'll save that worry for tomorrow. I have acquiantances, I've realized. Quite a few. And basically one friend, but I can't expect him to hang out with me all the time. Especially because he has lots of friends and we're only the beginnings of friends. Except that he kissed me the other night, quite a few times. Sober, too. It was insanely sweet. So I thought . . . that meant we'd hang out? We hang out when I initiate things. WHICH IS ALWAYS HOW IT IS! So no more. Nooooo moreeeee.
I'm dealing with the same crap from over an hour away. "I messed things up, I want to make this work this time, I want to see you, we can make it through the summer because I want to be with you." All unprompted, mind, and occassionally I see the proof of these statements, but lately not so much. 3 days without so much as a "hope you're having a good day." But I won't budge. Even if it means I get zero texts and/or calls the entire day and sit here drinking Select 55 by myself, probably putting on Merlin at some point, then sleeping a few hours and getting up to go to the gym at 7am before 9 straight hours of sewing.
But work isn't all bad. I'm exhausted afterward, true, but I feel some sense of accomplishment this week. I've built a few things and am, unfortunately, undergoing a series of alterations of bloody men's suit jackets. Ladies, never let your boyfriends buy a suit jacket that overlaps at the cuff, because alterations on that shit are horrible. Trust me. But it beats Vanessa, who spent 4 1/2 hours hemming a voluminous skirt for a girl that barely reaches 5 feet tall. Poor thing. She went to the bar straight after work to wash her woes away with beer. Clearly, I should've gone with her. Except my card probably would've been declined there, too. EITHER WAY, work isn't awful anymore, it's just very tiring. And now I'm craving attention, as I am wont to do.
Still, I refuse to budge. No sir, I will not text, or call, or knock on the door of, or pine away for, or strategically place myself in the kitchen/laundry room/lounge, etc etc etc. Nope. Staying here with my beer and popcorn and Merlin (yes!) and hoping. Which is better than being the pathetic blob I know I am at times. I would like to point out that I have done this before, and rarely does it ever work to my advantage. I'm usually happier just initiating and getting what I want than waiting. Which is already making me rethink my promise not to do a damn thing. EFF! Why am I so flaky about these things? Gah. What's worse--losing your pride or being alone? I'll let you know tomorrow . . .
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