.the.clinger.

In a series of some unfortunate events, I’ve found myself trapped. Like the cheese. A couple of weeks ago I went to Tracks for first Friday. Actually, went to a friend’s house for dinner, then we headed to Tracks for first Friday. Met up with this chick, who shall remain nameless, but I’ve resorted to call the clinger. I had some serious beer goggles on, but at the moment, I thought there was just a really pretty girl who was dancing with me. Danced the night – well what was left of it – away. May have made out on the dance floor (this should have been my first warning as to what was to come).

After a few days of chatting, we decided to meet up at Charile’s. Why not learn how to 2 step.

Well – let me tell you something.

Although I did have a good time learning how to 2-step. I did not have a good time trying to convince myself that a make-out session was still an option. Nor did I have a good time forcing conversation.  After I left, even before I got back home, I got a text saying she had a good time. I stupidly responded that I did too, maybe I should have just said that I was glad she had a good time.  

I opted not to say anything on Sunday but got a text in the evening that stated how bummed she was that I didn’t text her all day. However, if I was free on Tuesday we should go see an improve show. I could have done without the mention of her being ‘bummed’ however I now know that I definitely need to give the ‘we’re just friends’ speech. I don’t want to, I don’t like doing it, and this is the part that sucks.

(random thought: why does my dog like to crawl under my bed?)

I also ran into the psycho, but that’s a story for another time. I'm evil. 

I'm sorry.

Fantasy football. Still holding down the #1 spot. It’s been a fantastic 14 weeks…now to kick ass in the play-offs.