Monday, June 10, 2013

A Bucket Full of Whack-a-Doodle

                Boys are stupid. Or maybe it’s me. Somehow, I always end up falling for men I won’t work out with. Not saying I’m in love with the current guy, I just may have accidently started to long distance it up again. At least this one’s only a couple hours away. Anyways, there are some habits that boys do that I hate.
When you text a guy and the first thing they do is ask what you’re doing. It’s like, “Well, obviously I’m trying to talk to you.” Yes, I’m probably doing something else at the same time, but I’m trying to see what he’s doing. I’m not doing anything important otherwise I wouldn’t have messaged. This is probably an over-reaction and I may be a little high-strung lately. Fucking deal with it.
How dare he just ask about me all the time. Maybe I want to know about his life. Maybe I want to know what he's into. Maybe I want to know when his band’s playing next. Maybe I want to at least know the name of his band. I’m sure if he talked about it all the time, I’d be complaining about that instead. I know he’s funny and ridiculously good looking, but that’s it. Fucking chance meetings. I hate that he’s interested in me. I have no intention of permanently staying down here, much less relocating to Montana. I hate that he makes me smile all the freaking time! I hate that he’s supportive of my sobriety kick. I hate that he takes a genuine interest in my hobbies. I hate that he’s fucking wonderful.

I apologize. I’ve gotten sidetracked and don’t remember where I was going with this post initially. I’m apparently a big box of Nutter Butters today. I’ll do a real post soon, I swear.

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