Not Enough Distractions

I'm feeling damn conflicted lately. I'm lonely, angry. I miss Rob. I miss the new boy. But I wish I  didn't miss either. Next week will be three months since the death and I still think of Rob almost daily. It's been about eighteen days since I last saw the boy, who went and got himself on Marine restriction for 45 days.  If we were able to talk, this would be so much easier.

The first night of his restriction, I went to a bar and got trashed. I ended up telling everyone I had a boyfriend and making out with a cowboy whose hat I stole, a chick who wanted to take me home with her boyfriend, and turned down two other offers. It felt pretty damn good. Until I saw that cowboy the following week during work.

Last Monday I went out again all dolled up. Hit on someone else. My god what a prude. I got a hug, kiss on the forehead, and a number. Which he didn't use. It's not like I wanted to fuck the dude. Just make out.
 I just want a little validation since I can't talk to the person I really want to.

I'm still single, but I supposed I'm emotionally taken? I'm not sleeping with anyone because I'm only thinking of one person. Making out and hitting on people is just a distraction from these stronger feelings. I don't like feelings and it's kind of freaking me out. I like him. I haven't seriously wanted to date someone in a long time, even before all the commitment phobe trouble. And now I'm all insecure about being the only one with feelings.

Oh, I also had to take a delivery to Drunk Dick the other day. Awkward much? Ugh.

Drunk Dick

So douche nozzle Johnny never called and didn't respond to a nonchalant text I sent. So therefore he is now being referred to as Drunk Dick.

Because I deserved more than his lame attempt at a bar hook up. He sucks at life just a little bit.

As for now, I'm just flirting with Chris at work because he's gorgeous and just a perfect specimen of the male body. If I could post his picture for you, I would. But I'm trying not to destroy his privacy like I've erased any form of mine.

So your favorite blogger, just pretend that's me for a second, is still going to jam out with her clam out and rock the single life. Pretty much because I don't have a choice and I rather rock it than be miserable.

Sorry folks, that's all I can make into coherent sentences for now.

Douche Magnet

So I facebook stalked previously mentioned cute boy from the bar, mister Johnny.

He's married.

I have a magnet for men looking to cheat.

I suck.

Let's hope it's one of those joke marriages.

Like the one I have there.

The Best Night I've Had In A Long Time

I just got home and it's just past 3am. But it's cool because I don't have work for fourteen hours give or take. I'm still slightly buzzed and elated from everything that just happened.

Disclaimer: I'm still buzzed from the bar therefore this gets very explicit.

While at work, Erika and I decided that we were going out afterwards. We needed to plan my Halloween costume for the big party and maybe we wanted a drink. Or two. I was scheduled off before she was, but she had come in a few hours earlier, so fingers crossed we'd get out around the same time.

An hour of waiting, a phone call from the Momz, and we were off. Momz requested I picked her up at work since she was on the motorcycle and there was a thunderstorm abrewing. Completely understandable, and since we were only planning on going to our local 24hour Walmart, Erika and I didn't mind.

We took the trip back to my place, met Momz, who ended up just taking the coat I brought and decided to driver herself since the rain had stopped, back to my place to change into nicer clothes. Nice clothes meaning, clothes that aren't work clothes. Dressed in low cut shirts, wedge heels, and a touch of makeup, we drove the half hour trip back into town.

We made our first stop to Walmart and I found my costume. I'm going to be a fallen angel. I bought black wings, I might wear Erika's black corset, fishnets, heels. I'm just not sure about the bottoms. I can't decide what sort of skirt to wear. Frustrating. Now, to the bar!