Act natural

( Wednesday, Jun. 23, 2004 12:51 pm )

>Everything is nice

So I told David last night that I did not want to be his girlfriend, and now I feel completely, completely horrible. First of all because I am now a fickle, mean, horrible girl just like the ones nice guys are always (rightly) complaining about, and second of all, because now there is fully no one who wants to make out with me on the front porch.

Oh man, it was right before his birthday too. I hate myself.

The trouble is, I really am disgusted with the idea of all relationships, since they are painful and stupid, yet without a boyfriend or potential boyfriend, there is no one around to listen to my inane blatherings about My Life: Where it is Headed and Where it Has Been. It's like pillow talk for me, and only a guy who wants to sleep with me manifests the appropriate interest in my nonsequiturs and soft brained observations. Juney does try to listen, at least for short periods of time, but in general I don't talk even remotely seriously with any of my friends or relatives, usually, so I definitely notice the lack of someone to talk to when there are no boys around.

Today I put down a deposit for my new apartment. I'm not crazy about it, but it's a decently OK place. I just woke up this morning and realized I was thoroughly depressed about my future and tired of worrying, so of course it was time to hurriedly make a big financial decision. Well, whatever. It's a nice looking small studio in a nice looking building on an OK-looking (somewhat fratty) street a few blocks from where I live now, with hardwood floors and tall ceilings and a separate little kitchen and a decent-sized closet and bathroom. It screams PCU dorm room to me, but that's not so bad. I've already had several heart-to-heart chats with my new landlord. He should meet Landlady Ellie; maybe they'd hit it off. Nevertheless, I'm getting slightly more cheerful the more I think about a place of my own to fill with Ikea furniture, not to mention not having to walk through the baby gates when I bring a boy upstairs. My Own Front Door by Age 24. Yeehaw.

So anyway, now that you, diary, are the man in my life, you get to hear all about the excitement that is My Life: Down the Crapper.

Love,

Almostreally

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