A little less Sixteen Candles.

You know what's the grossest thing ever?

cold coffee. ewwwwwwwww.

ok. Back to the matter at hand. You want to know about the date, right? I knew I would get in trouble by telling yall about him.

As we are all aware, I have a very short attention span, especially when it comes to guys, so whereas I am already over him, everyone else is just smitten. And when I say I don't feel like seeing him again, everyone is going to look at me like the bad guy b/c I don't want to snatch this extremely nice guy up and procreate right away. And he is a really nice guy- he is going to rock as a boyfriend to someone some day- just not me. I know we're at the nothing serious stage, but I feel like he should know this now so he doesn't continue to spend pointless time and energy falling in love with me (because let's face it, everyone does at some point :-) I'm just not feel it and now I have to figure out a way to tell him. hmmmmm. any ideas?

Thursday we had a nice time at some bar/ grill in the W4 area (don't ask me the name of it; all I know is it was on Bleeker and there were a lot of red couches). I dilly dallied out of work prolonging getting there as long as politely possible. We had a few drinks, then I went home. the end. nothing big, nothing crazy. I have this terrible habit of being extremely clever and witty whenever there is no pressure of me liking the guy- and it, without fail, always hooks the guys I don't like. I must learn how to harness this talent to the guys I actually want to procreate with.

Saturday was his birthday celebration in Manhattan. The following is a recap of what happened which I wrote on the train home that night:

Let's have a little tutor session. In case you are ever in the situation with me where I have been drinking, if I say "I'm done", I mean it. I don't mean 2 drinks and a shot I'm done. I mean 2 drinks and a shot later I'm going to be worshipping my toilet and only able to get out of the bed the next morning to pee or vomit, whichever comes first. If you haven't already guessed, I am passed that 2 drinks and a shot point.

*pause train of thought. Someone is smoking on the subway car. Unless I'm so drunk I'm on fire. Pause to check. Ok. Not on fire.*

So, Speedy was drunk tonight. Which is totally understandable- it was his birthday celebration. It was fun- him being drunk, me eyeing a man across the room that I swear is my soulmate (remember: I never pretended to be nice, especially when his friends ask "how did yall meet?" And I'm instructed to answer "through a co-worker"). He had a reserved table at some swanky Upper East Side bar, whatever. I tried my hardest not to make out inappropriately in front of his friends, but he wasn't having it. God I hate PDA. I do however love holding hands. Right now I think my right hand is half broken and bruised though. I don't know why, but when Speedy gets drunk he holds my hand and he squeezes it so tight, I feel like he is trying to brake it- it might just be his way of balancing himself because, damn, he was drunk. But it still hurt.

What's not cool? When Speedy is so clearly drunk, he is running to the bathroom and nearly vomiting at the table. And when the younger brother(who is supposed to get him home safely) is blowing your plea to take him home off so he can score points and get laid. Douchebag. I know I don't understand male bonding and especially brotherhood (considering my brother and I are so alike we are strangers) but that is fucked up. This 20 something asshat would not listen to me, even when I offered to help him out in the getting laid department (by talking the skank into it, not me). He went over to his brother and asked him if he was ok. Not 5 seconds before, Speedy was telling me he was done for. What did he tell his brother? He was fine and like the goddamn idiot is brother is, he believed him.

I. hate. douchebags. why must they continue to show up in my life when I am so desperately trying to rid myself of them?

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

I love that my spellchecker does not recognize "Douchebag" or "skank" as appropriately spelled words.