Happy Birthday To Me

I thought I had successfully ghosted D2, so as to spare us both the fallout of actual confrontation. Regardless of if you believe my motives, I believe my motives. I thought it had worked, but I got a message from his yesterday… and I couldn’t not respond. He asked to take me to dinner for my birthday. I told him maybe next week. While I don’t want to be his best friend, it doesn’t mean we can be friends with a good bit of space. I just have to guard myself. I am what’s important, and I have to remember that.

Saturday, Mom and I went to the Curiosities and Oddities Expo, thrown by the Punk Rock Flee Market. It was neat, but there were SO MANY people. The Fox St. Compound is a lot smaller when it’s filled with hundreds of people, and while I had fun and saw some cool stuff, I definitely feel like sales were lost just because there were exhibits I couldn’t even get up to see. I mean, let’s be real, I’m the type of person that would love to buy your obscure taxidermy, wet specimens, and various things made of dead animals, people, or whatever. I saw some cute things, some unsettling things… but in general, it was a lot of us trying to dodge the crowd and not lose each other. One of the vendors, The Room of Lost Things, is a brick+mortor shop in a nearby art district. I told Mom that maybe we could just go to the art district and look around the store, as well as others in the area, like Flossy McGrew’s.

On our way back home, we stopped for lunch at Pappadeux. It’s about the only place in Colorado you can get really real, super great seafood. I don’t know how they do it, but their plates are on point if you’re looking for a seafood joint in Colorado. I also always forget how pretty the place is. They have this giant courtyard made of stone and features and it’s just lovely, guys. So lovely. We got a shrimp cocktail and some lobster, shrimp, and pork eggrolls for an appetizer, because why not? For lunch I ordered the lunch portion of the Cajun Combo, which is blackened catfish on a bed of dirty rice served with shrimp creole on a bed of white rice. Lots of rice. In spite of it being a lunch portion, it was fucking huge. Mom got fried catfish and shrimp. Also huge. We had enough sense to stop about halfway through, but then we ordered bread pudding… because Birthday Pappadeux. It was amazing!

Overall it was a really nice day. Afterwards, I went home to recover from my food coma and get ready to go out. Since I got the costume, I needed to wear it, so I went to a Halloween party at Scruffy Murphy’s. I dressed as a Steampunk Air Ship Captain, and ended up heading down early because A, parking, but 2, the dogs kept trying to sit on me.

So, I’m sitting in this bar, awkwardly, and I ordered the first thing I saw on tap, because I’m awkward, and it’s an IPA called Space Dust, but as I do this my bad ass steampunk skull cane falls and smacks the guy next to me. I, in my infinite wisdom of social interactions, froze like a deer in headlights. Fortunately for me, this gent bent down and picked up my cane, and just went, “That’s heavy! You could hurt someone with that. Where’d you get it?” And thus a conversation began.

This is really odd for me. I’m not the kind of person to talk to attractive men in bars. I’m the type to sit quietly and awkwardly in a corner until my friends show up or I get depressed and go home. So, I did my best to be cordial, normal, and interesting. I thought I did well, but I haven’t heard from him since… although I know where he is every Sunday. He’s a devout Catholic, apparently, and goes to confession at 3pm and mass at 5pm every Sunday at the Cathedral Basilica in downtown Denver. I don’t plan on stalking him, interesting though he was. It’s so rare that I talk to someone, and even more rare that their first question is what my favorite book is… to which I had no read good answer, for I love so many books. Still, he has my number and I asked him to let me take him to a nice speak easy, so he can contact me if he wants. If not, I’m not going to die.

Bird showed up and I mostly left the guy alone and just enjoyed my Bird. We danced. We had a couple drinks, and we both went home around midnight. I had a great time! And I was really glad that my bestie came out with me. We have ups and downs, but at the end of the day she really is one of my best friends.

Sunday we had to come into work. There’s just too much to do and new girl wasn’t catching on like we wanted. It turns out that it’s good we came in because Monday morning new girl up and quit on us, just two days before month end. What a bitch.

One the way home we stopped at Safeway, and my stomach freaked out. It hurt and I thought I was going to vomit all over. I came home, and after I ate some chicken, because I hadn’t eaten all day, that’s exactly what happened. I was VIOLENTLY ill all evening, all night, and half the morning. I couldn’t even get up the next morning, and when I finally hauled into work I was only able to stay for an hour because my whole body hurt like I’d been beaten, presumably because that’s how you feel after shitting and vomiting out your insides for 24 hours. Fortunately, whatever this ordeal was, it seems to have passed.

My birthday was just a day at work, but the office girls made it nice. One brought green chili, one brought cake, one bought me flowers. It was a lovely little affair. We worked late, to compensate for the lack of a biller, and then I went home and watched The Pagemaster.

It wasn’t an epic birthday, but it’s notable because I didn’t have a breakdown or a crisis or any kind of negative reaction. My friend Mel is pregnant, and Lindsey is engaged, D1 is going to run for congress… and I’m just here, doing the best I can, and that’s enough for once.

Welcome to the last year of my 20s… I don’t expect it to be eventful, but maybe it could be pleasant.

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And… I’m Out

SHIT THAT CROSSES THE LINE:
Not taking shit I say seriously.
Withholding important information.

Last night I went to a movie with SupaNerd. The last entry toyed with the idea that I wasn’t sure that I liked him, so much as I wanted to like him. That thought hadn’t left my mind, but he asked and I like having plans. So we went to see Zootopia. I actually saw it yesterday morning with mothership, but it’s a really good movie. It’s a really good movie about discrimination, and equality, and I was really impressed with the whole thing. I hadn’t heard any reviews, and no one I knew was excited to see it, so I was just going because I like having breakfast with the mothership and watching a movie. Anyways, SupaNerd didn’t get off work till 8, so by the time he swung by to pick me up we had limited viewing options. Fortunately it’s a good movie.

Now, I know that I have a lot of pet peeves. Too many: I’ll throw it out there that I have too many pet peeves, but if I tell you that I have pet peeve that’s not a playful invitation to irritate me until I want to bash your teeth out with a brick. In fact, I would not recommend that. I have been known to enact physical violence on people that poke at a pet peeve. I don’t have a good tolerance for it.

That being said, when SupaNerd first tried to touch my curly hair, I told him I don’t play that. I also let him know that I smacked a bitch at work for touching my hair. It’s a thing. I like space. Stay the fuck away from my face and/or hair. I was nice about it. I didn’t snap at him. I didn’t swat his hand away. I didn’t punch him in the throat. I later decided that I should have prolly punched him in the throat, cuz all he did was proceed to poke at my face and hair. I hate that shit. I hate it so much…

I kind of hate people touching me at all. For whatever reason, he feels the need to do it constantly. My mom says my dad was like that, too. Just had to touch her ALL THE TIME. Why? Why can’t you just be a human being over there in your own human being bubble? There’s a time and place, motherfucker. You don’t need to touch me all the time. Since he was a such a fuckwad about my face and hair pet peeve, I allowed him to touch my thigh, instead. I still didn’t like it. I still hated it. I still wanted to beat his face in with something hard and sandpapery. Still, it was better than him trying to fuck with my face.

Another pet peeve is being OVERLY cheap. You wanna use a coupon on our date? Great. Whip that shit out. What else you got a coupon for? You wanna argue with a waitress about the DOLLAR that it costs to sub out french fries for sweet potato fries? Too cheap. He managed to con her into sending out a refill on my coke cray-early so he could have a free coke, since he was ordering water. Really? REALLY? 

Now, if he was cray broke and counting every penny, I could understand being cheap, but I still think it’s some rude ass shit to argue with a powerless waitress about the price of Coca-Cola and fries… Thing is, though, he’s not broke. He’s got a really good job. We discussed this previously because he eats shrimp and scallops all the damn time. I can’t afford shrimp and scallops on the daily, but he can. Can he afford that because he’s arguing with waitresses over a dollar? No. I don’t think so. It’s unnecessarily cheap, and it’s motherfucking rude. That waitress didn’t make the prices. I wanted to curl up and die… 

So, then we were watching previews. There’s this movie coming out called Storks. Looks cute, but makes me cringe cuz it’s about babies. Out of nowhere, SupaNerd says: “That’s how I’m going to teach Johnny about where babies come from.” Who’s Johnny? I, too, was curious. Nephew? I know his sister has a kid. Little brother? Cousin, perhaps?

NOPE. HE HAS A KID.

Now, don’t misread me. I don’t mind people with kids. I’ve dated a number of guys that had kids. I love other people’s kids. I could totally be a step-mom. What pissed me off is that it’s been too fucking long to have not mentioned this previously. His defense was simply that he forgot to mention it. Whoops.

Fuck that noise.

If you can forget to mention that you have procreated… what else have you neglected to tell me? Are you married? Are you married to like seven different people across the US who all have the same story of you leaving your wife and six children behind? Are you a felon? Do you have the Herp? Are you a Russian sleeper cell sent here by Vladimir Putin to recruit me? Are you the leader of a new cult and you need me to be the creepy serial-killery enforcer at your side? Do you sacrifice infants to the dark lord under a blood moon to gain the knowledge of the universe and the powers of night?

This kid is like new, too. New enough to need a talk about where babies come from. Like… A, when does he ever see little Johnny? Is that REALLY why he goes back to Wichita every other week? 2, Why does the mother have full custody? It’s not the 80s anymore… a father can get full custody, especially if the mother is as cray as he’d have me believe she is. D, HOW DO YOU FUCKING FORGET TO MENTION THAT YOU HAVE OFFSPRING?! That’s a big thing.

Also, he tried to fucking talk to me during the movie… at a fucking theater.
I was so irritated that the sound of his laughter made me want to kill him.

It was all just the topping on the bad ju-ju cake.
I can’t trust him. I can’t tolerate his touchy-feely habit. I already felt like he was clingy and needy. He’s cheap to the point of rudeness. He makes gross noises when he eats, breathes, or generally exists. (Mucus problem? Idk.) He talks during movies. I’d rather have been on a play-date with a 6 year old. It was so bad.

So… I thought about it, and ghosting him wasn’t on the table, because I was in too deep. My friend in California agreed. My friend in Australia said I should just use the kid as a card to play, since a normal person might call it off because they “want to take that journey with someone for the first time.” Which is gross…

I didn’t wanna lie… so I ghosted him, and I don’t give a fuck.

This guy stood me up once. Then ignored me for a month. Then acts like a  freaking needy child AND FORGETS TO TELL ME HE HAS A CHILD. Is it shitty to ghost people? Yes. It’s shitty and total fuckery. And I regret nothing.

I don’t have time for the “but why”  and all the attempts to justify everything they did wrong. Even if you don’t answer their questions, they try to justify everything… and then they might get mad. He might secretly be a psycho. He’s got a shitty “I’m always right” attitude anyways. You should hear the shit he says about his sister just because she’s a single mother. So then a bitch starts to think… would he get more angry if I ignore him or if I tell him it’s over. What if he shows up to my house in an angry fit? These are the things a woman has to consider. Fortunately, I have four dogs and I say creepy serial-killery shit all the time, so he’s naturally a bit wary, but I wouldn’t write him off. He could still snap.

So… that’s the end. I’m out.

I deleted my dating profiles. I’m okay alone. I like being alone. I have honestly missed not having to text people. Yeah, I’d like someone to do stuff with, but I still hold out hope that one of these days I’ll meet someone when I’m out doing the stuff I like to do, and we can build off that…