Things aren't going so well for the men in orange and black on opening day, and I think it has everything to do with that silly park they play in. Nothing good happens there, and no one seems to care, except for me. Wow, this time of year always brings up memories of Candlestick Park and how great it was to visit and watch games in. Sigh...It's 7-0 padres in the 7th inning. Or 8th--I've lost track. Zito just didn't have it today, which really sucks.
I've agreed to meet up with with Alex tonight, so we're going to Vino Locale, the new wine bar on Kipling that Jenna recommends. I kinda wish we were going somewhere one of us has been to before, but oh well, his choice. Not sure why that matters to me. Guess is has to do with being off-balance about this and wishing I had some footing to rely on. He checked out the winery list on their Web site, and was well enough pleased to give it the go-ahead. At least I'm not dragging him somewhere he doesn't want to be. At least, I hope I'm not.
Alex called me this morning on my mobile, and we talked for 10 minutes about our plans and my review and his counter-offer for the house he and his brother are selling. I'm trying to think of this as a friend date, since what guy disappears for TWO MONTHS without making solid plans to meet up after two seemingly great dates if he's actually interested in dating the woman? I know he's been busy, but i still think he'd have made the time all along if wanted to see me. I can't believe anyone who isn't running a small nation could be that busy for that long. Hell, even doctors who work 18-hour shifts take Wednesdays off to play golf. I think.
Whatever, I'm not hostile and bitter, just puzzled. I'm not sure why he wants to do this tonight, but it was all his idea--I stopped asking weeks ago. I hope it's not that he feels bad about disappearing, and he's just doing this to appease me. I don't want to be appeased--I'd rather understand what's going on with him, and know if I shouldn't have expectations beyond friendship. I'm perfectly OK with being friends, really. It's been long enough since the second date that I can't imagine he's into me that way anymore. But why would he want to do this at all if he just wanted to be friends? I can't say i understand him, so i should just stop trying until i can get better info. I've been driving myself nuts over this for so long. Gotta stop!!
So
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
March 22
OK, now this doesn't change anything, I swear. I have no intention of getting back onto the Alex roller coaster, believe me. But...
I happened to e-mail Alex this morning about how I scored a bottle of a 2005 Lodi Zinfandel when I complained to Lonn that he hadn't yet taken home his last delivery from earlier this week, and that it was getting in my way, quite literally. I asked him if he was going to take it home, or should I. So he opened the box and handed me a bottle, explaining that a client's family makes it, or something along those lines. Like I care--all I wanted was a free bottle of wine from Lonn's collection.
Anyhoo, I e-mailed Alex about my oenophilic score (the subject line said "Woohoo!"), and he asked what it was. When I told him, this is what he wrote back (and I kid you not):
"So it’s a highly concentrated fruit forward zin grown in hot and dry central California with low tannins and lots of alcohol...would prefer a Napa cab with greater structure and the dusty nuances of terroir from the Rutherford bench...but I definitely wouldn’t turn down a glass of your zin. Perhaps we should share both wines together??"
And this was my reply:
"I certainly wouldn't turn down the chance to taste wines with you, especially since you're such a know-it-all. I mean, did you read what you just wrote? Ha ha. But I'll believe it when I see it. Ball's in your court (as usual), Mr. Oenophile."
I will admit to nothing beyond this--I only wrote him because I thought he'd find the whole thing very interesting, not to finagle a private "wine event", as he put it during our first fiasco at Evvia all those long weeks ago. I really have put him (mostly) behind me, but that's not to say that I would turn down a chance to hang with him. Knowing now what I didn't know then puts me at better advantage to ignore all of his fawning promises (like the one above) and keep myself from getting involved in an imaginary affair all over again.
It still really smarts that I wasn't good enough, or whatever, to keep his interest longer than 2 weeks. I was feeling pretty bad about it last night, for instance. But I'm not wallowing, nor do I plan to. I'd like to avoid feeling sorry for myself, and I'm really trying. We'll see how it goes.
I happened to e-mail Alex this morning about how I scored a bottle of a 2005 Lodi Zinfandel when I complained to Lonn that he hadn't yet taken home his last delivery from earlier this week, and that it was getting in my way, quite literally. I asked him if he was going to take it home, or should I. So he opened the box and handed me a bottle, explaining that a client's family makes it, or something along those lines. Like I care--all I wanted was a free bottle of wine from Lonn's collection.
Anyhoo, I e-mailed Alex about my oenophilic score (the subject line said "Woohoo!"), and he asked what it was. When I told him, this is what he wrote back (and I kid you not):
"So it’s a highly concentrated fruit forward zin grown in hot and dry central California with low tannins and lots of alcohol...would prefer a Napa cab with greater structure and the dusty nuances of terroir from the Rutherford bench...but I definitely wouldn’t turn down a glass of your zin. Perhaps we should share both wines together??"
And this was my reply:
"I certainly wouldn't turn down the chance to taste wines with you, especially since you're such a know-it-all. I mean, did you read what you just wrote? Ha ha. But I'll believe it when I see it. Ball's in your court (as usual), Mr. Oenophile."
I will admit to nothing beyond this--I only wrote him because I thought he'd find the whole thing very interesting, not to finagle a private "wine event", as he put it during our first fiasco at Evvia all those long weeks ago. I really have put him (mostly) behind me, but that's not to say that I would turn down a chance to hang with him. Knowing now what I didn't know then puts me at better advantage to ignore all of his fawning promises (like the one above) and keep myself from getting involved in an imaginary affair all over again.
It still really smarts that I wasn't good enough, or whatever, to keep his interest longer than 2 weeks. I was feeling pretty bad about it last night, for instance. But I'm not wallowing, nor do I plan to. I'd like to avoid feeling sorry for myself, and I'm really trying. We'll see how it goes.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
March 21
It’s been so long since I’ve posted, I can barely remember how to do it! A number of developments since the last time:
- Amy and Noah have left the company, and we had a great lunch at Perbacco to see them both off. Sucked that we had a combined farewell instead of separate ones, but it was fun and really good anyway.
- Jon ran a 12K on Sunday and did really well. Also, he finally got his first check from that contract job at Thomson. Only 3 weeks late. Now he can finally eat and buy shoes.
- I've lost all interest in pursuing the Alex thing, which is good for me and bad for any hopes I have about the future. It’s not that I don’t feel I have a future unless I have Alex—certainly not, but that it seems like such an uphill battle to find someone who is age-appropriate, successful, active and fun that I’ve pretty much given up.
- I turned 39 last Thursday, so 40 is just around the corner, and I can't quite wrap my brain around it. Take that as you will, but I take it as an indication that I should be grown up by now with a place and things and a future of my own. That I’m am and have none of these things is pretty troubling to me.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
March 6
Ooof, I saw Alex through the office window this morning when I was checking out Noah’s old cubicle, and we talked for a bit. Turns out he spent his day off yesterday dealing with that speeding ticket he got in December, not enjoying hedonistic pursuits. A real shame, because he obviously works very hard and deserves that kind of relaxation. So he said he owes me an e-mail, which means he did get the message I sent him last week. Wasn’t sure it didn’t end up in spam, since I sent it from AOL to his work e-mail (the only addy I have for him). But he only said this when I asked him how this week was looking for him. I got the distinct impression that I’ve backed him into a corner and he’s trying to figure a way out. Maybe I’m over-thinking again, but I’m not sure. I wish there was some way that I could back off in a way that would let him know I’m not some crazy chick breathing down his neck. I feel like such an idiot sometimes.
Lonn and Craig are doing Bikram yoga once a week, and Craig just stumbled in here looking dazed and confused. It’s pretty cool they’re doing this, but I think it’s taking a mental toll on Craig. He’ll get used to it, I hope.
Lonn and Craig are doing Bikram yoga once a week, and Craig just stumbled in here looking dazed and confused. It’s pretty cool they’re doing this, but I think it’s taking a mental toll on Craig. He’ll get used to it, I hope.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
March 1--in like a lion. Or whatever
Patience is a virtue, they say. But “they” are always saying something, as Pap has often said. Still, I think it’s a great plan for me to become more comfortable with being patient with myself, and with those around me. I shouldn’t have to feel pleased every second of the day to be OK, should I? I have to let it go when someone cuts me off in traffic, or when Trish cuts off a client in mid-sentence, or when I cut my nails too short. So one of my new goals is to seek patience so I don’t drive myself nuts and drive others away.
I know what you’re thinking, I bet. You’re thinking, “yeah right, let’s see how long this Zen attitude lasts, if it even starts.” Am I at least close? Thought so. I’m pretty impatient and anxious by nature, so it’s no surprise that I just spent the month of hell freaking out over Alex. I really don’t know what the fuss was all about—is that evidence perhaps that the Celexa is finally starting to work? I really hope so, because I’ve been feeling mostly down about my life and prospects, as evidenced by my two blog posts on Feb 27. But I’m starting to feel like I might be entering a period of good luck, or at least not indifferent luck.
I hope the same for Pap, because he could really use some good luck about now. He’s still having trouble with his knees, and it’s painful to think that just a few weeks ago, he was striding better than he had in years. I think it’s due to the cold, wet weather, so maybe once things warm up and dry out, he’ll improve again. But he’s also seeming a little confused or slow these days too, and I’m worried that this might have something to do with the strokes. I can’t imagine him not being in my life the way he has been all these years, so I do hope I’m just overreacting. It doesn’t help that he’s pretty socially isolated and has no close friends to talk to about his condition and what he’s been going through. All he has is his family, a bunch of blood-sucking whiners. No wonder he’s maybe starting to forget stuff, because really, who’d want to remember that kind of crap?
On a happier note, Joy’s thirty-first birthday is on Sunday, March 4, and we’re planning the usual dinner and cake thing in the afternoon. Guess I should call people—Bev, Jennifer…oh, that’s right, John’s moved to LA and Janee still lives in Sacto, so I guess I don’t have to put them on the guest call list. Maybe we’ll have some pizza and salad, but that’s boring. But I’m not feeling particularly Martha-like these days, so maybe that will just have to do. IT would be nice to cook something, though, so maybe Jon can help me brainstorm and execute something nice.
And the SF Chinese New Year’s Parade is this Saturday, and I’m trying to get Jason to agree to drive us all. Maybe we can even go to the Montgomery St. gym—much nicer than the one near my office—beforehand. Jason actually, finally bought cross-trainers, so now he has no excuse not to work out. Geez, he’s being so lame, insisting on joining the gym MONTHS ago, and then refusing to buy shoes to actually get some exercise. It’s been a serious annoyance, but there it is.
Lauren’s farewell cocktail thing is tomorrow night, and since I’ll be in Berkeley already, it’s a no-brainer. Can’t wait to see people—Shane, especially. It’s been a minute since we talked last, but that’s my fault. I didn’t call him back when he called, like, 3 weeks ago. Duh. So I’m in for it. It’ll be amazing to have her working at my company, albeit in SF. She’ll do a great job and take to the work quickly, I just know it. Woohoo!!
I know what you’re thinking, I bet. You’re thinking, “yeah right, let’s see how long this Zen attitude lasts, if it even starts.” Am I at least close? Thought so. I’m pretty impatient and anxious by nature, so it’s no surprise that I just spent the month of hell freaking out over Alex. I really don’t know what the fuss was all about—is that evidence perhaps that the Celexa is finally starting to work? I really hope so, because I’ve been feeling mostly down about my life and prospects, as evidenced by my two blog posts on Feb 27. But I’m starting to feel like I might be entering a period of good luck, or at least not indifferent luck.
I hope the same for Pap, because he could really use some good luck about now. He’s still having trouble with his knees, and it’s painful to think that just a few weeks ago, he was striding better than he had in years. I think it’s due to the cold, wet weather, so maybe once things warm up and dry out, he’ll improve again. But he’s also seeming a little confused or slow these days too, and I’m worried that this might have something to do with the strokes. I can’t imagine him not being in my life the way he has been all these years, so I do hope I’m just overreacting. It doesn’t help that he’s pretty socially isolated and has no close friends to talk to about his condition and what he’s been going through. All he has is his family, a bunch of blood-sucking whiners. No wonder he’s maybe starting to forget stuff, because really, who’d want to remember that kind of crap?
On a happier note, Joy’s thirty-first birthday is on Sunday, March 4, and we’re planning the usual dinner and cake thing in the afternoon. Guess I should call people—Bev, Jennifer…oh, that’s right, John’s moved to LA and Janee still lives in Sacto, so I guess I don’t have to put them on the guest call list. Maybe we’ll have some pizza and salad, but that’s boring. But I’m not feeling particularly Martha-like these days, so maybe that will just have to do. IT would be nice to cook something, though, so maybe Jon can help me brainstorm and execute something nice.
And the SF Chinese New Year’s Parade is this Saturday, and I’m trying to get Jason to agree to drive us all. Maybe we can even go to the Montgomery St. gym—much nicer than the one near my office—beforehand. Jason actually, finally bought cross-trainers, so now he has no excuse not to work out. Geez, he’s being so lame, insisting on joining the gym MONTHS ago, and then refusing to buy shoes to actually get some exercise. It’s been a serious annoyance, but there it is.
Lauren’s farewell cocktail thing is tomorrow night, and since I’ll be in Berkeley already, it’s a no-brainer. Can’t wait to see people—Shane, especially. It’s been a minute since we talked last, but that’s my fault. I didn’t call him back when he called, like, 3 weeks ago. Duh. So I’m in for it. It’ll be amazing to have her working at my company, albeit in SF. She’ll do a great job and take to the work quickly, I just know it. Woohoo!!
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
February 27 p.m.
So, I still don’t have a real handle on things, on any of the things that have been bothering me or have been an issue with me lately. Dr. Bowles didn’t have anything to say beyond “keep taking the medication and I’ll see you in two weeks,” so there’s nothing to report there. I didn’t do a great job explaining to her about the problems I’ve been having—the lack of concentration, the fatigue and early poop-out at night, the continued trouble sleeping, and the fact that I’m not really feeling any better about anything, even though I’m taking an anti-depressant. Yes, it may not have kicked in fully yet, but I think it has and it’s not going to help much.
I’m still in the same crappy financial situation, I’m still living with my parents, I’m still working at a job I don’t really like and am not particularly good at, and I’m still without a life partner and family of my own. I know that there isn’t much I can do about any of these things right now—but I can see that they’re all interconnected, each bearing on the other. I feel pretty much trapped, with no escape routes or outlets for letting my frustrations be known. Aside from this journal, I have no place to spill my darkest, most hopeless thoughts about my life and the direction it’s heading. And from where I’m standing now that direction seems to be decidedly downward.
It’s hard to believe I’ll be thirty-nine next month and that I’m no further along in life than I was twenty years ago. I never thought that could happen, but I never thought about how to make sure it didn’t. And the Alex debacle certainly hasn’t helped my outlook. The constant ups and downs over the past month have really made things harder for me. I didn’t expect to fall for him so hard or so quickly, especially since I hardly know the guy. I just want to be over him and start accepting that my life isn’t likely to change significantly until I do. But maybe that’s why I’m not getting over it—because I can’t believe that things could change for me sometime, that maybe there’s hope for something good to happen in my life.
I keep seeing what’s happened to Ernie and Beverly, and I am really afraid I’ll end up the same way. Do genetics have a hand in determining one’s destiny? We have the same parents, but not the same experiences; we didn’t even grow up in the same decades. I don’t have to end up like them, but that kind of thing certainly happens. If I could just see my brother’s and sister’s lives as the cautionary tales they are instead of a vivid foreshadowing my own fate, I could be onto something.
Alex is a kind of ideal to me—the kind of man I think I’ve been looking for all this time. And it’s really convenient and interesting that I homed in on that right away, but he doesn’t see the same thing in me at all. How funny and ironic is that? Not very funny, but highly ironic, I guess. But there it is. I was never really sure, though, that I could be with him as a boyfriend, if only because he seems so far out of my league. I still think I could live up to that, but I won’t get the chance to find out for sure, at least not with him. And I can’t really imagine that there’s anyone else so successful, attractive, family-oriented and driven who could find me equally so. It seems impossible at the moment, but I have to at least not give up on finding that before it’s too late for me. And it’s starting to get late…
I’m still in the same crappy financial situation, I’m still living with my parents, I’m still working at a job I don’t really like and am not particularly good at, and I’m still without a life partner and family of my own. I know that there isn’t much I can do about any of these things right now—but I can see that they’re all interconnected, each bearing on the other. I feel pretty much trapped, with no escape routes or outlets for letting my frustrations be known. Aside from this journal, I have no place to spill my darkest, most hopeless thoughts about my life and the direction it’s heading. And from where I’m standing now that direction seems to be decidedly downward.
It’s hard to believe I’ll be thirty-nine next month and that I’m no further along in life than I was twenty years ago. I never thought that could happen, but I never thought about how to make sure it didn’t. And the Alex debacle certainly hasn’t helped my outlook. The constant ups and downs over the past month have really made things harder for me. I didn’t expect to fall for him so hard or so quickly, especially since I hardly know the guy. I just want to be over him and start accepting that my life isn’t likely to change significantly until I do. But maybe that’s why I’m not getting over it—because I can’t believe that things could change for me sometime, that maybe there’s hope for something good to happen in my life.
I keep seeing what’s happened to Ernie and Beverly, and I am really afraid I’ll end up the same way. Do genetics have a hand in determining one’s destiny? We have the same parents, but not the same experiences; we didn’t even grow up in the same decades. I don’t have to end up like them, but that kind of thing certainly happens. If I could just see my brother’s and sister’s lives as the cautionary tales they are instead of a vivid foreshadowing my own fate, I could be onto something.
Alex is a kind of ideal to me—the kind of man I think I’ve been looking for all this time. And it’s really convenient and interesting that I homed in on that right away, but he doesn’t see the same thing in me at all. How funny and ironic is that? Not very funny, but highly ironic, I guess. But there it is. I was never really sure, though, that I could be with him as a boyfriend, if only because he seems so far out of my league. I still think I could live up to that, but I won’t get the chance to find out for sure, at least not with him. And I can’t really imagine that there’s anyone else so successful, attractive, family-oriented and driven who could find me equally so. It seems impossible at the moment, but I have to at least not give up on finding that before it’s too late for me. And it’s starting to get late…
February 27
I’m trying to figure out how I really feel about things not working out the way I’d hoped with Alex, and so far, it seems OK. Really. He’s still embedded in my thoughts for some reason, and the idea of him is still running as my brain wallpaper, so it’s not like I’m over it already or anything. But at least I’m starting to come to rational terms with the truth—which is that he’s just not that into me, or, even worse, just wants to be friends.
Ooof, can’t pretend that I’m entirely OK with that, but what choice do I have but to accept it? He’s given me no indication that he wants to get together—come on it’s been over a month since our second date already—and he’s only called when I seem to be pulling the plug on things. He doesn’t seek me out otherwise, and he doesn’t try to make plans when we do “connect”. I just have to accept that it’s not going to happen and try to move forward.
So what does “moving forward” look like? Hell if I know, but my birthday’s in a little over two weeks, so I have to start thinking again about what I want to accomplish in the next year, my last before I hit my forties. “My forties”—now that’s a slap in the face. I’m a year away from turning forty, and I have nothing tangible to show for all those years of experience and “accomplishment”. Like I keep telling anyone who’ll listen, I don’t feel I’ve gained much since age nineteen, and that was almost twenty years ago. The only thing I can say I’m truly proud of for that time period is that I finally went back to college and graduated. I’d like to say I had many more points of pride, but I can’t think of a single thing beyond that.
Not to belittle that accomplishment at all—it was a huge thing to go back to Cal at age thirty-five among all the traditional-age students and finally get it done. Yes, it messed with my head, and I think that’s why I feel stuck at nineteen now and have a boyfriend who’s twenty-two. Strange thing happened yesterday—I ran into Curt Heredia while waiting for Jason at Turtle Bay. Curt was that guy from Bewitch who was Robby Allen’s best friend, and he was really cute and totally trouble. He was some kind of athletic god with a billion friends and way outside of my social sphere. As if I had a social sphere.
He actually thought I might have been a cheerleader. As if! He kept naming people who I’d known of but didn’t ever have any social contact with. He didn’t realize I was a total outcast, which makes me wonder how on earth he recognized me at all. He said it was my voice, but that’s not likely. I mean, I was eleven and twelve when he might have heard it, and I certainly don’t sound twelve anymore. Very strange. The best part is that I didn’t recognize him one whit. He was totally changed, would never have thought in a million years that he was Curt Heredia. Not very attractive, but still had that glassy, cocky look in his eye. But he was anything but cocky, more teasing and fun.
I wonder what it would have been like for me if I’d been in his crew. I wasn’t in their league, socially, looks-wise, or mentally. I couldn’t have handled it to save my life. I think that when I met and connected with Alex, it made me think I could be attractive and interesting to a successful, established guy who is actually attractive and interesting to me. But I think that was a lot of wishful thinking rather than a real connection. Hence, it didn’t continue beyond the second date. I don’t mean to say that I’m not worthy or whatever, but just that it’s not likely to happen again with such serendipity. I didn’t have to do anything to get his attention! But I couldn’t keep it, not even in the “short” run. So I’m not exactly confident of my ability to “create lightning in a jar” again.
So, I’m not exactly afraid of the idea that if I don’t find exactly the right guy for me, I’ll just be alone. I was thinking that way before my dates with Alex, so it shouldn’t be a stretch to go back. But it would be a hell of a lot easier if I hadn’t had a small taste of what I’d be missing. Lots of people go thru this, and lots of people are alone, unloved by someone special and have no hope of being otherwise. Over the last few weeks especially, I’ve looked at homeless people or handicapped people or just unattractive people and thought how sad it was for them that they’d never have a chance like the one I have with Alex. I shouldn’t have thought such a terrible thing, because it’s come back to bite me quite squarely in the ass.
Ooof, can’t pretend that I’m entirely OK with that, but what choice do I have but to accept it? He’s given me no indication that he wants to get together—come on it’s been over a month since our second date already—and he’s only called when I seem to be pulling the plug on things. He doesn’t seek me out otherwise, and he doesn’t try to make plans when we do “connect”. I just have to accept that it’s not going to happen and try to move forward.
So what does “moving forward” look like? Hell if I know, but my birthday’s in a little over two weeks, so I have to start thinking again about what I want to accomplish in the next year, my last before I hit my forties. “My forties”—now that’s a slap in the face. I’m a year away from turning forty, and I have nothing tangible to show for all those years of experience and “accomplishment”. Like I keep telling anyone who’ll listen, I don’t feel I’ve gained much since age nineteen, and that was almost twenty years ago. The only thing I can say I’m truly proud of for that time period is that I finally went back to college and graduated. I’d like to say I had many more points of pride, but I can’t think of a single thing beyond that.
Not to belittle that accomplishment at all—it was a huge thing to go back to Cal at age thirty-five among all the traditional-age students and finally get it done. Yes, it messed with my head, and I think that’s why I feel stuck at nineteen now and have a boyfriend who’s twenty-two. Strange thing happened yesterday—I ran into Curt Heredia while waiting for Jason at Turtle Bay. Curt was that guy from Bewitch who was Robby Allen’s best friend, and he was really cute and totally trouble. He was some kind of athletic god with a billion friends and way outside of my social sphere. As if I had a social sphere.
He actually thought I might have been a cheerleader. As if! He kept naming people who I’d known of but didn’t ever have any social contact with. He didn’t realize I was a total outcast, which makes me wonder how on earth he recognized me at all. He said it was my voice, but that’s not likely. I mean, I was eleven and twelve when he might have heard it, and I certainly don’t sound twelve anymore. Very strange. The best part is that I didn’t recognize him one whit. He was totally changed, would never have thought in a million years that he was Curt Heredia. Not very attractive, but still had that glassy, cocky look in his eye. But he was anything but cocky, more teasing and fun.
I wonder what it would have been like for me if I’d been in his crew. I wasn’t in their league, socially, looks-wise, or mentally. I couldn’t have handled it to save my life. I think that when I met and connected with Alex, it made me think I could be attractive and interesting to a successful, established guy who is actually attractive and interesting to me. But I think that was a lot of wishful thinking rather than a real connection. Hence, it didn’t continue beyond the second date. I don’t mean to say that I’m not worthy or whatever, but just that it’s not likely to happen again with such serendipity. I didn’t have to do anything to get his attention! But I couldn’t keep it, not even in the “short” run. So I’m not exactly confident of my ability to “create lightning in a jar” again.
So, I’m not exactly afraid of the idea that if I don’t find exactly the right guy for me, I’ll just be alone. I was thinking that way before my dates with Alex, so it shouldn’t be a stretch to go back. But it would be a hell of a lot easier if I hadn’t had a small taste of what I’d be missing. Lots of people go thru this, and lots of people are alone, unloved by someone special and have no hope of being otherwise. Over the last few weeks especially, I’ve looked at homeless people or handicapped people or just unattractive people and thought how sad it was for them that they’d never have a chance like the one I have with Alex. I shouldn’t have thought such a terrible thing, because it’s come back to bite me quite squarely in the ass.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)