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my slut pheromones have been hard at work

October 13, 2013

This is not a good thing.

The new guy  was as disastrous as I had expected, though I never confirmed whether he possesses a penchant for self-injury. He is, however, a functioning alcoholic and is dealing with bipolar disorder. We are not dating, he tells me, because he doesn’t date. And then tells me we should get married because I like some of the same bands as him. Having grown up around rampant alcoholism for most of my life, I just don’t need that again. Not from him, not from  Too Little Too Late. I dragged my brother to a show where the former was performing, and he couldn’t even bother to come out  from the green room and say goodbye when I texted to say we were leaving. Just… get home safely.

Asshole. Go fuck your roommate and call it a day.

I saw TLTL yesterday, too. We talked some, and it was awkward. He later made a disparaging post on Facebook later that may or may not have been about me. I decided to assume it wasn’t.

I texted him last night to say I hoped HIS show went swimmingly. He didn’t bother to text back. So screw that.

I ran into a photographer friend for a second time this week, though, which was nice. In finding out that functional alcoholic (here after referred to as FA) is most decidedly NOT  my partner, he stepped up the flirt level of a magnitude I have rarely encountered. I don’t know how to read him, or Anyone else, apparently.

That’s all I’ve got.

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From → fiction, rants

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