Saturday, June 2, 2007

I guess all those MySpace posts calling me evil have a point...


Jesus. Last night turned into a clusterfuck of unholy proportions.

Met my buddy Marine at my bar to pregame. We always do this, and usually it's the best. Unfortunately last night we both had our drinking hats on. Approximately 47,000 Jacks and Jagers later, we show up at the game an hour late and totally out of our trees. All I remember is asking him 'What's the score? Boo.....What's the score? Boo....What's the score?' You get the idea. Oh and twice forgetting where we were sitting after bathroom/cigarette breaks and him having to come find me. Hee. Bet he had an awesome time. Which, I found out today when I apology-texted him, got even awesomer -

NO NEED FOR SORRY... I BURNT DOWN MY KITCHEN. FIRE DEPT AND ALL.

Holy crap. He woke up to a horde of sexy, sexy firefighters (sigh, I wish that was how I woke up every day) and an apartment so filled with smoke he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. They wanted to take him in for smoke inhalation, but he toughed it out. The apartments a disaster, bad smoke damage, so he has to crash with the parentals on the island for a while. I guess that's what happens when you party with the pros...

Incidentally I am 0-4 for Met games attended this year. Time to start staying home, I'm clearly a jinx.

I have been halfheartedly hooking up with this guy (FB) for a while. I say halfheartedly because clearly neither of us is that into it. He's a regular, a bit OCD suit and tie Blackberry addict guy whilst I am a l lazy spaz and averse to hooking up with customers. But I shamelessly whored myself out for transport and free hotel room for an out of town gig I wanted to see, and whilst nothing happened that weekend, we got on very well and I decided to give him a whirl. He's also a very private guy so I knew we could do it without the whole goddamn bar finding out. But, first off, he doesn't like to kiss. I mean come on, everyone likes to kiss! And sex with minimal or no making out makes me feel like a hooker, and not in a good way. Despite this, I drunk texted him whenever I was horny, not having any other prospects at the moment. This was problem three. The drunk text kind of annoyed him (I say some very random stuff in drunken text. I also have a tendency to send them to the wrong person, which luckily hasn't gotten me in trouble - yet) and we weren't hanging out together at all, just 2am hookups.

I kind of grew to like him a bit, and the fact that were only honoring the fuck side of our fuckbuddy pact and not the buddy part - like, can we go for a beer together sometime or what? - was irritating. Actually it's probably why I like him, emotional unavailability is hot y'all. He was decidedly meh about me. I am saying this fully aware of what a douchebag it makes me sound, but the guy should have been a little happier to be banging a hot piece of ass like me! So I pulled the plug. Not officially or anything, just stopped calling/texting.

And it seems to have done the trick. He texted me last night - I hear you were at the bar, still in neighbourhood? Whatevs, drunk and horny I presumed, but wierd as it was always me who initiated contact. I was toasted and at home so I didn't reply til today - Sorry I missed you, called it a night early. He called me back in a millisecond(!) to let me know he's around all weekend if I want a beer. Huh. And also, play the game, dude. Who says they're free all weekend? I'd make stuff up if I had to. Actually, I made up dinner plans for tonight on that call (I'm actually hanging with The Ex, not a good thing to tell the new). Anyway, this is a radical departure from normal. We only communicate by text, only at 2am, and only when one of us is drunk. I guess unavailability IS hot.

So we're going for a beer tonight or tomorrow. I'm still leaning towards just being friends. Hell, maybe he is too and just wants to make it official. We shall see.

BTW, someone at Time Out New York loves my bar! Good, I just wish I knew who it was. Time for some supersleuthing methinks.

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