I only dance when I'm drunk.

"You don't remember dancing with me like Shakira?"

"No. If I don't remember it, it didn't happen."

"You are a dancing machine."

"That's what they tell me."

Last night is a complete blur. Thanks to Laffy Taffy, I was having the most fabulous time within 30 minutes of our assemblage. Number 3 had me laughing so hard, I missed most of the game. Damnit! Where's my hat bitch?!

I scantily recall sitting at a bistro table about 10 steps from my car at the end of the night texting the Laffy Taffy to tell me where we had parked it. Looking at my phone this morning, it proved that recollection to be correct. I'm never drinking again ... after this weekend.

To all those involved, I had a blast last night. Thanx.

I missed seeing you last night ... you know who you are.

Must have more coffee.

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Life Goes On.

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You can never be too honest with me.

I had a battle in my head between Sweet Reagan (above) and Sassy Reagan (I'm surrounded by stupid jerks) on what to title this. Obviously Sweet Reagan won ...

"You don't like me."

"What? You're dumb." You just irritate the crap out of me most of the time.

"I'm serious. I can tell."

"Why do you think that?"

"I can just tell."

"Because I don't throw myself at you like every other slut in this city?"

"I'm glad you know so much."

"I never claimed I did. I just can't think of any other reason you'd say that."

"What do sluts have to do with me?"

"You're hot. Don't play stupid. It doesn't suit you." Your ego is already bigger than it should be. Check it.

"You're so off base. You're just kind of rude."

"Sorry, but so are you." I tend to treat people the way they treat me.

"Bitter is a better word."

"I don't think so. I just don't trust you. It's hard to be open to someone you don't trust."

"I think I've been honest with you. What don't you trust?"

"I'm not going to talk to you about this over IM. Try to have a real conversation with me one day and I'll explain it."

"I've tried."

"No you haven't. That's the point. If you thought I was worth it you'd try harder."

"If I knew what I wanted I'd try harder."

"So tell me again why I should open up to someone who doesn't know what they want."

"True."

"Exactly."

Needless to say the conversation ended abruptly without another word. All things considered, it was 3 am. This is what I have to deal with. By "have to" I mean, this is how most guys around here are, or at least the ones I meet. Do I have "STUPID" written on my forehead?

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It's good to know you are loved.

It's got to be the most intense feeling one can have, just the knowing that you are loved, I mean really loved by someone you know would do anything in the world for you and would never hurt you or make you cry. Why do we have such an insatiable need for that extraordinary connection? I know why I need it so badly. It has more to do with my childhood (or lack thereof), than any natural human-nature instinct. I've got a gajillion friends, most of them acquaintenances who like to call themselves my friends, but who I know from experience wouldn't be completely honest with me if I ever put them on the spot. But then there are the handful of them (I can probably count them on one hand) who I am very proud to call my true friends and I know they love me as much as they'd love one of their own family and as much as I love them. I can count on their loyalty and lean on them every time I torture myself through some sad attempt at a meaningful relationship and vice versa. These aren't superficial or casual friendships. They don't gossip about my troubles or use me for whatever personal gain I can bring to their lives. They love me even with all my faults, skeletons, and obsessions. They are the real deal and very dear to me. They are my rocks and keep me going everyday. I don't think I could make it through life without them.

"If I haven't told you recently how much your friendship means to me, I'm telling you now. I adore you. Thank you for everything. You're one of the most 'real' people I've met in a while and I will see you tonight. Muah." ... One of the best!

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The morning after ...

My head hurts a little, my stomach is queasy, and I had a really hard time getting up for work this morning. I have Sass to thank for that. She knows how to take my mind off of my frustrations and what to say to encourage me that I'm doing the right thing. I'm trying to remember exactly how many guys I passed my number on to and if I had my booze-goggles on during the exchange. No help from Sass, she can't remember either. I do, however, remember very clearly the weirdo foreign guy that I couldn't understand who insisted on kissing both my cheeks goodbye that I got stuck with while Sass "had to take a call". I'm looking forward to the opportunity when I get to repay her for the laugh we got from that one.

"You don't enjoy going out?"

"Not really. The only reason I made it out tonight is because I missed you."

"What excites you, other than your dog?"

"I like going out to dinner with friends, but I don't really get excited about anything. I'm just so tired of dealing with guys like that, I'm so over all of it."

I felt like such an anti-social looser after I said it. He was right, I am an insecure mess. But I don't think I have the energy to fix it. And why should I anyway, he's the reason I'm such a mess.

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Dumb Fact

On Wednesday of this week, at exactly two minutes and three seconds after 1 AM, the time and date will be: 01:02:03 04/05/06. That will never happen again. Just thought you'd want to know so you can celebrate.

You may now return to your normal life.

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