Things always go worst on Saturday nights. Something goes wrong in my brain and allows me to act like a lunatic. That was all well and good at 22, but at 29 how is it that I'm still doing it? Nobody else seems to be! Last night was a friend's wedding. Basically my last friend from childhood getting married... and I was at the wedding stag. I wasn't even invited with a date. As though they knew that I wouldn't have one. It's a bit offensive, but I try not to take it personally. The wedding was a blast - I danced and drank champagne all night. After too many drinks, I came home and changed out of my pastel dress into a black sparkly jersey dress and sent a txt message to Carlos. Well, I actually responded to a txt message from Carlos - about 4 hours late. Well, I'll spare you the details, but I woke up at his house again this morning. Actually, this afternoon. Plus, when I look back through my texting history it makes me want to vomit. I just pray that guys never go through their texting history the way I do. If so, he has hard evidence that I am obsessed with seeing him - and I am terribly embarassed.
Now it's my typical Sunday, where I think about what I'm doing (and not doing) with my life. It's pretty depressing. While everyone else is in real and meaningful relationships, I go back and forth between laughing and crying over my sorry state of affairs. And looking at my recent call & text message history is making it much, much worse. Why isn't there a program on my iphone to prevent me from self destruction post cocktails? I think that a big glass of red wine coupled with some episodes of Sex In the City is my only possible solution.
Lauren
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