Thursday, November 16, 2006
What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here
I can't believe I'm actually going to admit to the events of last night. Because quite frankly, I feel that I should be blindfolded and shot by a firing range for making such poor, poor decisions.
I got home earlier than I expected last night and was ecstatic because that meant that I could go to Cam's. I'd had a nagging voice in the back of my head all day that he was going to blow me off, but I just chalked it up to residual issues thanks to Scott the Magnificent (read: sarcasm). So, I called him when I got home at 8:30, and he informs me that he has to be at work really early the next morning, so he was planning to go to bed sometime within the next hour. Which in my opinion is a total bullshit excuse and I have to fight myself not to call him back after we get off the phone and scream at him to stop jerking me around. Somehow, I refrain.
I'm hanging out with my roommate, taking advantage of our brand-new DVR and eating pizza (because I'm an emotional eater and when a boy upsets me, I want pizza). 11:00 pm- my phone rings. It's Mr. Wrong.
Weird, huh?
Sure, we've become friends (through necessity, we see each other every day). But he hasn't called me late at night in a very, very long time. Him and a bunch of friends (I'm good friends with all of them) are hanging out a friend's place near me and they have alcohol. My presence is requested (with an additional request to arrive without panties and a bra).
I tell him I'll be there in a half hour (but I go with all my undergarments on).
We all actually have a really good time, watching The Family Guy and just hanging out.
Then, Mr. Wrong takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. And the next 5 minutes are the most unsatisfying of my life. Friends barge in on us, not realizing that- thanks to Mr. One-Minute Wonder- we were finished, and chaos ensues.
Mr. Wrong and I start arguing (it may be related to a remark made by me regarding his stamina or lack thereof).
The word "whore" is said.
I gather my clothes and leave in a very angry hurry.
Times he has called me since- approximately 10.
Times I have answered- 0.
I swear to God- I'm never going to learn.
Just shoot me now. Take me out of my fucking misery.
Today's title from: Creep by Radiohead
I got home earlier than I expected last night and was ecstatic because that meant that I could go to Cam's. I'd had a nagging voice in the back of my head all day that he was going to blow me off, but I just chalked it up to residual issues thanks to Scott the Magnificent (read: sarcasm). So, I called him when I got home at 8:30, and he informs me that he has to be at work really early the next morning, so he was planning to go to bed sometime within the next hour. Which in my opinion is a total bullshit excuse and I have to fight myself not to call him back after we get off the phone and scream at him to stop jerking me around. Somehow, I refrain.
I'm hanging out with my roommate, taking advantage of our brand-new DVR and eating pizza (because I'm an emotional eater and when a boy upsets me, I want pizza). 11:00 pm- my phone rings. It's Mr. Wrong.
Weird, huh?
Sure, we've become friends (through necessity, we see each other every day). But he hasn't called me late at night in a very, very long time. Him and a bunch of friends (I'm good friends with all of them) are hanging out a friend's place near me and they have alcohol. My presence is requested (with an additional request to arrive without panties and a bra).
I tell him I'll be there in a half hour (but I go with all my undergarments on).
We all actually have a really good time, watching The Family Guy and just hanging out.
Then, Mr. Wrong takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. And the next 5 minutes are the most unsatisfying of my life. Friends barge in on us, not realizing that- thanks to Mr. One-Minute Wonder- we were finished, and chaos ensues.
Mr. Wrong and I start arguing (it may be related to a remark made by me regarding his stamina or lack thereof).
The word "whore" is said.
I gather my clothes and leave in a very angry hurry.
Times he has called me since- approximately 10.
Times I have answered- 0.
I swear to God- I'm never going to learn.
Just shoot me now. Take me out of my fucking misery.
Today's title from: Creep by Radiohead
Labels: Mr. Wrong
Posted by Chloe
at 1:48 PM |
Permalink to What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here |
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