I’ll write a more clever title once someone brings me a Diet Coke

I got a text from Murray yesterday regarding our home loan. The loan for the house I currently inhabit where he hasn’t lived or made a payment on in over a year.

If I was able to cover closing cost, would you consider refinancing? I need to get out from under that loan.

A few things:

1. Yes, holy hell, if you cover closing costs let’s go ahead and get that fucker DONE. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it here, but I’ve decided to hold off on selling the house for the time being. I’m actually miraculously able to make the payments despite this recession, and I rather enjoy living there.
2. What big purchase is Murray planning to make that he otherwise wouldn’t be able to make with his name already under a large home loan? Perhaps, another home? For himself, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear?
3. If Murray is indeed planning on purchasing a home for himself and his recently acquired family AFTER THREE MONTHS OF DATING THIS CHICK, I am going to  LOSE. MY. SHIT.
4. Seriously, someone is going to get hurt.

Okay, I may be jumping to conclusions here, but why else would he all of a sudden need this done “quickly,” as he said in a later text? Of course, I would never actually physically harm someone, but if I do find out that he’s buying a house with Mushroom Head McTrampStamp +1, I am going to be so furious. Like, red-in-the-face-and-vibrating-out-the-door-to-throw-a-wine-bottle-in-the-driveway-to-hear-the-satisfying-sound-of-glass-breaking mad.

Not that I’ve ever done that before.

Not with a bottle that wasn’t already empty, of course.

Of course, it’s really none of my business, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be thoroughly pissed off.

Also, I unfriended Mushroom Head McTrampStamp on Facebook (I added her before I realized she and Murray were dating) so I didn’t have to look at pictures of the happy couple that she posts oh, every 3.9 seconds or so. Because it’s just another reminder that he took her canoeing. And he always refused to take me canoeing because it was “a guy thing.”

Paddling is for losers anyway.

—

In other news, Gonzo has sent apology text after apology text, written on my Facebook wall multiple times, and invited me back to his apartment (with the futon!) almost every day since the incident. I have only responded to let him know that I wasn’t angry with him, and left it at that.

He is obviously having some personal problems I can’t fix, and I just don’t have room in my life for that right now.

—

And last but not least, I received a beach invite from The Lawyer for next weekend. I’m pretty sure hotel expenses will be covered, as well as some other expenses as he likes to spoil me, so that’s not an issue (I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON), but it’s with his family. His mom and younger brother (who’s my age, incidentally, and because of this fact The Lawyer had jokingly said that he wasn’t planning on introducing us) are going. It’s one thing to have dinner with them, but it’s quite another to spend an entire weekend with them. What if they don’t like me? What if I don’t like them?

If I hadn’t been having some recent doubts about The Lawyer, I wouldn’t be quite as apprehensive. I mean, I’ve been dying for a beach vacation. Any other time I would jump at the chance. But I’m feeling sorta lukewarm for him still. It’s only been a couple weeks, so it’s still a bit early to tell. But he’s like this perfect combination of nice guy and asshole. He’s very considerate (something I am NOT used to) yet he’s not afraid of ribbing me. Plus, I’m pretty sure he adores the shit out of me.

I still haven’t given him an answer about the beach trip. I’ll probably do that this weekend so as not to leave him hanging.

—

In summary:

Murray is causing me heart trouble for unknown reasons because seriously, wasn’t I the one who broke up with him? I don’t harbor any feelings for him whatsoever. So why is this pissing me off so much? Oh yeah, because he and I were together for two years before we bought a house together. And we were pretty sure we were getting married.

Gonzo is being irritating as fuck, and as I type this entry, he just texted me again. Desperation is not becoming on him.

The Lawyer is a perfect gentleman and pretty much everything I have been missing in all my previous relationships, and I still can’t get it up for him. And I am considering turning down a beach invitation because of it. WAH, LRC. YOUR LIFE IS SO DIFFICULT.  DID A $1,000 BILL HIT YOU IN THE FACE WHILE YOU RODE YOUR UNICORN TO WORK THIS MORNING?

Look, I know I’m awesome. But please, leave me the eff alone.

I debated even writing a post on this because, for one thing, it would be short, and I’m not exactly known for my brevity. However, I discussed it with Andy and he said I should write about it because, “people might enjoy a mini post instead of a mini novel.” Thanks, Andy, for suggesting that I’m long-winded.

The other reason I decided to post today is because Andy said these types of things “typify [my] life,” so I figured it was only appropriate with the theme of my blog.

I mentioned weeks ago that a guy friend and I (let’s call him Gonzo—you’ll see why in a minute) had been getting closer due to our respective break-ups, and we’d been leaning on each other for moral support a little bit. You know, texting a couple times a week and the occasional round of Guitar Hero and Miller Lite.

To give a bit of background on Gonzo, he’s a bit of a pothead and he loves taking painkillers. Hey dude, whatever tickles your pickle. Doesn’t mean I have to partake. But over the past few weeks I seem to have gotten better in my emotional state, while he seems to have gotten progressively worse. Also, he is just a strange guy. Very strange. I don’t know how to explain it. Okay, maybe I do. He is obsessed with Hunter S. Thompson, Tool, and getting fucked up. I guess that about sums it up.

But he’s my friend. And he’s good company.

So I was at his house last night, chillin’, and we were just sitting there—him on the couch, me on the futon (30 years old and he has a futon. Laaaaadiiiiieeeees)—having a completely normal conversation, nothing out of the ordinary, with no sexual tension whatsoever, and he decides he’s going to get up and walk over to me.

Oh, shit.

He pressed his hands into the back of the futon on either side of my head, while I simultaneously pressed my head back into it, hoping I wasn’t catching any communicable diseases. He stopped at my face (THANK GOD) and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

My first thought was, “Why?”

But instead I just said, “Um . . . no?”

I was so caught off guard! What the hell? Was he in on some hot moment I was missing? I’d just been talking to him about the dream I’d had about my ex boyfriend.

The moment was so weird that the details after that are fuzzy. He went back and sat on his couch and started flipping through the channels, as if nothing had happened.

The whole thing was awk.

I stayed around for a few more minutes before I left just so it wouldn’t look like “A’IGHT WEIRDO I’M OUT. ENJOY YOUR NIGHT LOOKING UP MAYNARD JAMES KEENAN VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE AND EATING KLONOPIN LIKE CANDY. PEACE.”

But that’s totally what I was thinking.

So, I went home and went to bed, vowing to stay far, far away from Gonzo. Seriously, dudes really are all about the vajay. I thought I could have had another honest-to-God guy friend. I’d even told him earlier in the night that I’d farted and I hoped he hadn’t caught wind of it. Guess I was wrong about this one.

When I woke up this morning, I had no less than six missed calls from around 12:30 a.m.—a number I didn’t recognize. I was a tad confused, so I checked my text messages.

Two new messages from the unidentified number.

From guess who?

Adam.

Woodwork much?

Seriously. Is this my life?

Oh, and did I mention the other day that I got a text from the BROTHER OF ONE OF MY EXES asking if I was dating anyone?

Aaaaaaaand I just checked my Facebook and Gonzo has written on my wall twice today.

FML.