nocontrol

So, the thing with the girl is over. It happened last night. We kissed for the first time and....there was nothing. Well, not nothing, actually. In fact, there was a lot of something, but it was absolutely the wrong kind of something.

I think we both knew right away. I felt like I was kissing my sister. There was no spark, no chemistry, no bells ringing...just a creepy sense of familiarity that made for a very awkward kiss, let me tell you. We said goodnight with an air of extreme confusion. This morning's conversation was chock full of "sooooo....about last night" material. Like I said, we both knew.

It's for the best. We're back to being friends now and everything should be fine. Honestly, I am totally at peace with the whole thing. If I had felt something and she hadn't, I'm sure I'd be upset. However, this is truly the best I've felt about an aborted relationship attempt ever. Does this mean I'm maturing? Christ, what a scary fucking thought.

So anyway, I suppose this means that I'm back on the goddamn market again. Shit, that was awfully fast, eh? No fucking around with 7 boring dates, awkward sex and weeks of avoidance leading to the inevitable "Dear Joan" email or phone call I tend to fall back on in these situations. We parted as friends, completely pleasantly at that. What a concept. Oh well, I guess I'm a tomcat on the prowl again, looking to get my schwerve on. Yee-fucking-haw. Dear god, how I love dating.

Sarcasm, baby. Oozing from every motherfucking pore. Want some?

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Yankees win! Yankees win! Tha-aaa-aaaaaaa Yankees win!



Bring on the Red Sox. You know who your daddy is, dontcha?