My ragtag group of friends and I seem to all have hit a low point. This is grounds for drinking.
We’re going into downtown Baltimore this evening.
Dank Ass is gonna get laid, Rachel is gonna get fucked up, and I’m gonna start a fight. Matt will be there to save us all.
I’m meeting up with Matt in about an hour for lunch and general hang out time. I haven’t seen him in a very long time and I miss him dearly.
I also miss Michael. He seems to be busy as of late, and a small part of me (I don’t know if it’s the rational or irrational side of me) thinks he may be growing distant because he doesn’t like me anymore. Just typing that out makes my stomach go icy. There have been other little things that send pangs of hurt through my spine, but I try to push those little things from my mind. I hope they’re just figments of my imagination. Whatever. Gotta face the music someday, right? My chances were slim from the get go. Eight months in and he still hasn’t really told me he likes my company… A girl can’t wait forever, and waiting this long has made me weary. It does something to your confidence. Someone you like so much treating you like an option… I want to cry.
I met an anesthesiologist + lawyer while wandering Baltimore a few days ago. He struck up a conversation while we were waiting to order coffee. He looked at me like I was worthwhile. He asked if he could sit and chat with me at a table by the window. He wrote his number on a napkin and slid it across the table (so old school, I think he’s ten years older than me). “Let’s swap numbers. I hope to hear from you, Jess, but I’ll call first if you don’t.” Well I hope to hear from Michael… Why the fuck am I thinking that when I pretty much hit the jackpot? An anesthesiologist who used to practice law?! A Doctor Esquire?! There’s no way a guy like that could find me interesting. He probably thought I looked solemn and wanted to make me feel better because he’s a doctor. Goodbye, Erik. I’ll just wait for Michael to say I’m not cool enough… and then I’ll find a befitting guy behind the counter of a McDonald’s. Free. Fuckin’. Fries.
I threw away the napkin with my empty coffee cup; it wasn’t on accident.
You’re funny, you’re easy on the eyes, and you’re smart, kiddo. You’d make a man happy if you chose him. You’ll be fine. If this Michael fella doesn’t work out, you’ll find a different one.
Thanks, Pops. I’m about to drink a magic potion that will make me happy, confident, and lower my standards. That’s the perfect trifecta for finding a nice guy.
God have mercy on my soul.