D.U.I. (Dialing Under the Influence)
I hate myself sometimes. I went out with one of my girls last night over to the restaurant and Justin was there. He didn't even look in my direction. Its possible he didn't see me, but even if he didn't, he had to have known that I was there, since everyone else that works there came over to say hi to us. That pisses me off. And it upset me. I don't get it. The dude was so fucking clear
as to the fact that he wanted to see me again over Thanksgiving
. And we met in OCTOBER. The fucking beginning of it. I called him on it dude. I told him not to say that because he would change his mind but he was so sure
that he wouldn't and he insisted on saying it. Well, low and fucking behold, I got nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I mean really. What the fuck?
So yeah, I drunk dialed. Left a message. Said I was confused b/c I didn't see how I could have misunderstood what happened and that I wanted to have him explain it to me for my piece of mind. This, while all true, has two problems. Problem #1: I now sound like a complete and total psycho. The never show your face again in public kind of psycho. The avoid her at all costs kind of psycho. How long did I know this dude before I turned into a complete freak? TWO FUCKING DAYS! Yeah, so, Problem #2: It's not exactly all true. It's all true while I'm in NJ, but when I'm in DC, I barely think about it. So its not like I need piece of mind sooooo badly that I'm gonna die without it (and even if I was, THANK GOD I DIDN'T SAY THAT). I can't believe I did that. Oh my God, I'm such a fucking tool. Ugh.
I'm gonna go kick the living shit out of myself now, but you all have a great Turkey Day.