I Wish I Could Get a Restraining Order

To keep unwanted people out of my dreams. It is fucking invariable that, any time LBHF makes an appearance in my dreams, I am going to be miserable and lonely, and feel shitty all day. Of course, since today also brings with it the need to contact both my bank and my local police station multiple times due to my debit card’s number having been compromised by some fucking asshole, it was bound to be a not-very-good day anyway. I also stubbed my toe first thing this morning.

Physicist called several times yesterday. I spoke to him once. He wants to have dinner sometime this week, but I graciously declined on the grounds that I have plans nearly every night. He sounds like kind of a goober, and not in a good way. Also, somehow in my drunken stupor, I had forgotten that he is a grad student. Bleagh. Students. I might just write this one off from the get-go.

The identity theft debacle also kept me in last night, despite my plans. I think that SMG is sick today, which probably means that tonight is off as well. I plan to stay in and sulk. Fuck everything; it’s Tuesday and I’m hating life.

State of Your Mama

Greetings, friends, strangers, Romans, and all the rest of you bitches. I know I promised a pity party, but I spent a bit of time wallowing and realized that it would be classless and obnoxious to expose all y’all to all that mess, so I’ve been writing about it in my Journal About My Feelings instead. My sole purpose here is to entertain my now-nonexistent audience, and let’s face it- cliches like “my heart is a vise; I am feral with grief” are entertaining for all of about twelve seconds.

So, I’ll keep that shit to myself and my JAMF, and save the juicy bits for you. Now, to bring everyone up to speed.

LBHF dumped me two weeks and two days ago. We were lying on his sofa watching TV, and he said that something was on his mind. This should have set off warning bells, but it didn’t. The gist of the discussion was that he was concerned that our differences in personalities and religion (!) made us a poor match. We talked about it again a week later, and I told him that I thought our problems could be worked out, but he said he wasn’t sure and needed more time to think about it. We agreed to meet up again in a month.

That was last week, and I’ve spent the time since then in varying cycles of grief, bitterness, numbness, acceptance, and picking up dudes online. Although I do hope that things will eventually work out with LBHF, I’m not holding my breath, and I’m doing my best to make some personal progress in the meantime. Part of that is opening myself up to new options, which means…

I’m dating again. God help us all.

And we’re back

LBHF broke up with me last night, 6 days after the anniversary of our first makeout. I am pretty fucking devastated, but then I have been in the throes of a major depression and also didn’t sleep well since I kept forgetting to breathe, so who the hell knows what’s really going on here.

More to come; stay tuned for a pity party of heretofore unseen magnitude.

LBHF Gets On My Nerves

(Note: Edited from previous posts for the purposes of cohesiveness)

Dinner with K
Thursday: LBHF and I go to K’s for dinner.

LBHF – The Romance Stuff

(Note: This post has been edited for clarity)
LBHF is my boyfriend again, as you may have gathered.

He’s not your type

People have told me recently that LBHF doesn’t seem like “my type”. They will often then refuse to elaborate on exactly what they mean by this. After some puzzling, my conclusions are twofold:

1. These people have known me for a little over a year, best case. They’ve seen me through various rebounds and booze-induced poor decisions, without much background on what the slightly more stable non-rebounding, non-blackoutdrunk version of me prefers.

2. It’s a vicarious thing. One person in particular said that she thought he wasn’t my type because I like “bad boys”. I was confused about this, because I tend to find bad boys irritating and tiresome. My conclusion is that it is, in fact, SHE who prefers bad boys- something she has told me more than once. Perhaps it is disappointing to see a friend with someone that doesn’t meet your own preferences?

In any case,

The Rock Show

So, there are a couple of guys at my office that also play in bands. One of the bands is surprisingly excellent, while the other makes up for what they lack in musical talent with sheer enthusiasm, and a hot (married- and to a wonderful girl that I absolutely love) bassist. I dragged LBHF with me last Thursday, because it is fun to do things with him, because it makes me happy to spend time with him, and because he is totally young and hot and I thought that his introduction to certain coworkers might serve to expedite their recovery from the pain of being in unrequited love with me.

Progress?

Things have been weird with LBHF. I started to feel like I liked him more than he liked me,

Crazy never goes out of style

PANamaDEMONIUM: Vacation Highlights

Here are the first several entries contained in my trip journal (which was promptly abandoned on or around the second day of the trip. Oops.):

5/15, 12:57PM. Some blonde just gave me the look of death as I was exiting my office building. I think that this means my skirt is too short to be workplace-appropriate– or maybe I just slept with her boyfriend.

5/15, 4:37PM. At airport bar. Lots of dirty looks here, too. Must not be the boyfriend thing.