Idiocy which I sort of hope nobody reads.

I was ditched last Friday on a date with firecrotch. After about an hour, she told me to sit tight and went to speak with her ex, who had just arrived. Ten minutes later, a friend of hers who I know tells me that she just saw them leave in his car. I drive home and drink myself into a rage.

Time passes, she doesn't quite realize why I'm so mad. She thinks that it's jealousy (instead of the fact that she fucking ditched me); that when we slept together, I felt a connection. I relieve her of this misconception, but she ends the night by telling me that she DID feel a connection, and that she thinks I did too.

We talk more this week. Friendliness creeps in. She offers to come over, asks if I want to hang out.

I sent a text to the FC tonight, asking her to come over and help me with my term paper. By which I meant, casual hate sex. The message didn't send because I barely ever have a signal inside my house. I didn't resend it. All I would have to do is tell her that I too felt a connection, and I am nearly certain I could have had sex tonight.

I have fallen for the less pretty, less smart, corny-as-hell romantic, 40 year old. Times, they are a changing. Or maybe not. Because, let's face it, kids, Lisa is the sister-in-law I had a crush on for years mixed with the ex-not-quite-girlfriend-who-I-loved-very-much I confide in these days. Am I really dating her, or am I dating those two by proxy? The more I fall for her, the more I begin to worry that it's just Christina and Amy I'm falling for all over again. The deeper I go, the more important the question becomes, and the less sure I am of the answer.

It hurt both more and less than I thought it would. Not the sudden, drooping, raging depression of last time. More of a black greasy feeling. So I've grown. Not much, but some.

One day, I will have the courage/stupidity to be utterly frank in my blogging. Until then, I leave you with a short selection of things I didn't create but which I feel connected to.

Because it's slow and pretty.

Because it's poppy and dumb.

Because it's excellently done.

Because I'm emo.

Because Joaquin may be a crazy bastard these days, but he can direct a video.

Because it is my new philosophy. James is a showtune, for instance. Kate is something sinister and orchestral. Taylor is a Spice Girls reunion song. Lisa is a poppy single on a rom-com.

A quick note on the present.

My last post was about women of the past, here is one about the women of the present.

Went on three dates last week, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Names are used, because, honestly, the people who read this will probably never meet the people I'm talking about

Lisa was a delight on Thursday. We talked about our lives. We drank. She, being half my size, got rather tipsy and began singing in her highly pleasing voice. Morning Train, at my request. It was hot.

Kayla was nearly as self-involved as I am. I was bored then, but really, how can I begrudge her obsession with herself when I am such a posterboy for egotism? She really seemed to have a good time.

Bekah. So much fun. We got smashed. Her friend was driving us to my house, but couldn't understand my directions. We decided to walk the short distance left. She was stumbly, so I gave her a piggyback ride. Upon arrival, we did finger painting and other neat activities. It was rad.

None of the three are dating me exclusively, so I feel fairly okay with dating them all at once. For now, anyway. I think I may soon reach the point, however, where I like one of them too much to date other women. Which one, though? The cougar, the milquetoast, or the firecrotch? How soon until I edit this post heavily when I decide to show the blog to one of them?