The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Sunday, December 09, 2007

I hate being your friend.

Okay, I'm glad you decided to drive three hours to watch approximately 15 minutes of a basketball game with me. But driving another 90 minutes in the dead of night to visit your ex is something different. I'm not happy with my town becoming known as a way station for booty. (Oh, I'm sorry, all you two did was talk...)

You've got two exes trying to win you back. Congrats. But please stop telling me about it. You told me the ex you visited was jealous of me (something I find preposterous), but now I'm the one getting jealous.

No, I don't think we'd work as a couple. A person that wouldn't vote for a presidential candidate because his name sounds slightly Arabic isn't someone with whom I can hold a conversation. I just hate that you, along with the 79 other female friends of mine, can't see me as anything but a friend. (And people wonder why I drive so far for booty myself...)

Guess I just wanted to get this off my chest. I SO wanted to tell you this when you were here, but I decided to be a nice guy (again), and not add to the situation. Maybe you'll see this, maybe I'll actually say it to you. But I just needed to get it out in the open.

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