Well. there is no point hiding it, this is just going to be another blog which follow's the current trend of A: Being drunk, and B: caring too much about the penisless half of the species (mainly due to the fact they have, to quote Yahtzee, 'Stonking Great Tits')
Ok, so awhile ago I met a girl and the usual happened. Drunk guy meets drunk girl and drunk happeninings occur. The, somewhat awkward, End. But it was a little more than that as we both chatted a bit more, and we both got to know each other, and in the end after a few 'which way is this going to go' moments, comparable to a precarious tight rope walker balancing a large and somewhat awkward stick, it flipped completely and I entered the friendzone, as per fucking usual. I mean, you could literally plan a complex and intricate timetable around my ability to enter the friendzone at such rates. Just know that within a few days of meeting a girl, no longer will I be 'that cute guy I once met and now kinda like' guy, but the nameless guy that gets cobbled together with the bunch of other male mates that didn't make the cut and somehow doesn't stick out enough to ever be considered an appropriate candidate. The annoying thing is that to some extent this is FINE.
I mean, I am still in an emotionally complex area with another girl, to which previous posts may have been addressed, and I may, or may not, only like this girl as a friend. But when you're drunk, as I may well currently be, and you're kind of thinking things through a bit too much, as I also may currently be, then your just damn well stuck and what makes the matter worse in when you watch said girl leave arm in arm, a position you previously forefilled, with another guy. Now don't get me wrong, I am not an arrogant prick, no matter how much I self loathingly tell myself I am, and I respect a person's right to do something that doesn't involve me, though it is morally questionable why someone would want to do something that doesn't involve me and the whole thing should be brought before a court, but at the end of the day it still hits home. Argueably some things hit home more than others and its apparent that maybe I should accept such a thing and not let it work itself on me, but it still hits home goddamnit. Watching a girl your 'mates' and also to some extent 'cuddle buddies' (like fuck buddies but with more cuddling and less fucking) with walk home with someone else should be an acceptable walk in the park not something that gets me down and has me being all depressed for the last few hours I am awake.
I really just think to much about so little. I get worked up about the tiniest things, things that should even really matter, and why? because I am a spoilt, egotistical, only child, who somehow, without even realising it at times, weighs himself above others. In a way this dates back to the time when I was an overly romatic son-of-a-bitch who heralded "love" as the next coming of a savior with belief that love could conquer all and could hold true under most, if not all, situations. After a slap in the face with reality and confirmation that love was indeed not the best and most cherished thing in the world as in most cases it was just emotions completely warping your view, I was on my way again, but there's still a part of me that thinks he can not only have his cake and eat it but also have a few dozen cakes, each with extra frosting and eat them all, one by one, and still have room for coffee afterwards.
It's getting about the time that I actually sat back and considered what was what and who was where and why was how in my life... not that that make's the tiniest smidgen of sense but I am sure you, the average, and obviously bored, reader understand what I am waffling on about. It's the kind of thought everyone probably gets but nobody probably explains. The sort of taboo subject that wont ever get brought up despite everyone thinking it.
God knows.
Sometimes life would be so much better if I was just blissfully ignorant, unaware of the happenings around me and more content looking at myself in the mirror, saying how pretty I was, and listening to the latest pop artists. My mind is such an awfully overly selfobsessed place to exist in sometimes that it makes me take a step back and consider myself in a whole new light, granted a whole new dim light that doesn't last long and hardly shines over the constantly 'look at me' neon sign the rest of me holds before my eyes, but a light none the less.
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