In my mind, dear reader, as you know, resides a gargantuan ego bigger than anything Beyonce ever sang about. It mutates daily into an object larger than logic can stop. Its sense of entitlement is slightly nausea-inducing; it is not stopped by criticism, failure or reality.
Which is why I assumed full and total success (redundant, I know) upon embarking in pursuit of The Girl. No heterosexual influences could bring me down! I set sail on this journey aiming to divide and conquer...from my cousin, but divide and conquer nonetheless.
When I got home, I sent her a text saying Get home safe. *insert smiley face* Tame, not too involving, sweet and showing interest, because I know for a fact that girls like when a guy - erm, girl - texts them after the rave, like same night. Or at least, I do. How do I know? *looks down* I go to sleep with a sense of fulfillment, wondering why guys whine so much about how hard it is to hit on a girl. Serious thoughts of starting to charge for lessons are the last thoughts in my mind as I drift off to Dreamland.
The next morning, I wake up. No text. Hm. Undaunted, I call up Mr. M. to tell him about my night. I was expecting him to be protective and all really? And etc...all he said was, that's all you did? Just her number? That's your confession? I get the feeling he perhaps wanted me to do more. So, because I love Mr. M and his happiness is important to me, I text The Girl again.
NO REPLY! Crushed upon the jagged teeth of reality (not really, though, because...you know...refer to first paragraph), I contemplated my future in the girl-on-girl world. I wavered from HOW DARE SHE! to MAYBE SHE DOESNT'T HAVE CREDIT to SHE WAS WITH MY COUSIN ANYWAY to THEN WHY WAS SHE GIGGLING SO MUCH??!! to SHE WASN'T THAAAT CUTE to SHOULD I TEXT AGAIN?...the end result was that I decided to stop texting with my dignity still intact. *Delete contact*
Now I have a responsibility to the world. Even more so, to myself. I have something to prove to myself about...you know...stuff. I cannot leave this stone unturned. So the next time I'm out...I'ma pick the drunk one. :D