- Had a lovely dinner last night with Jill, during which I had a delicious sandwich, and decided upon the three primary reasons for my being so keen on being single:
- I have no interest in telling people what to do. I cannot do it. Despite my gift for dispensing sage advice.
- I do not react well to anyone telling *me* what to do. In fact, it makes my face burn, and I will be compelled to do the opposite, even if it is a bad idea.
- I am terrified of being stalked again. Terrified. It's the worst feeling, and I don't want to go through that again. I feel like I bring out the Glenn Close in people, because they think I'm so strange that I must "understand" them. Which I don't.
- On the way to the Burlington, I explained my distrust of and distaste for dudes raised in the Midwest. A) They've never been as good of a time compared to east coast and west coast fellas. B) They're too conflicted, ie: "You're awesome and smart and hilarious and the best time ever... but I feel like A BAD PERSON for liking you, because I should really be dating a NICE girl. Jill thinks I've just been around too many douchey midwestern dudes, and is convinced she can change my mind. I am not so sure.
- Lessons passed on: Spencer [Pratt]-face is a clear sign of douchebaggery. Beware.
- Oh, also, some dude at Schuba's said that I am "a girl who takes the most pride in being sarcastic." I informed him that I in fact take the most pride in my ability to walk a tightrope without a net.
- Lessons learned: If I don't tell someone off who deserves it, and just let it be, my stomach shrivels up the next morning and I wake up with a bad, bad case of esprit d'escalier. It eats at my soul.
Ok, I'm already late for work. Going to the party tonight and have yet to assemble my entire Helen Hunt costume. Although am taking excessive pride in the fact that I am probably the first person to ever, ever dress up as Helen Hunt for any reason whatsoever. SCORE.