Crawling into the hole I've dug for myself
A. and I were discussing my relative confusion and disinterest in this "date" tomorrow with the fellow from the online personals when A. came up with the fantastic idea of inviting Roger to join Boy Bünd for the day. It seems that the other members of Boy Bünd have been making plans that involve the early consumption of cheap, mixed drinks at a tiki bar, followed by the filming of a test scene in front of a green screen for our future film project, possibly followed by the viewing of some legitimate film. A. decided that the surest way to relieve any pressure on me and to guarantee that I never see this fellow again would be to have him meet my other friends. Of course, Boy Bünd would be on its worst behavior (one proposal included everyone adopting a particular facial tick for the evening).
I thought the idea was charming to no end and I somewhat wish I had gone through with it. Instead, I just wrote Roger an email blowing him off, possibly for good. I am sure the medium of communication was gauche, but I also have little doubt that Roger may end up telephoning me regardless. I am pretty damned exhausted after this week. There were too many ten hour days and, despite the raise, a goodly amount of stress (particularly attached to coworkers, gossip, and jealousy). Consequently, I look forward to just blowing my Friday evening in front of the TV in my underwear. Tomorrow, I think I may get stunningly drunk on the off chance it will help me forget my self-defeatist romantic life.
Speaking of my underwear, I bought some Calvin Klein boxer briefs because they were on sale (I am not ordinarily a big fan of designer anything). They were supposed to be white, but I'll be damned if this material isn't so fucking thin that they are transparent.
I thought the idea was charming to no end and I somewhat wish I had gone through with it. Instead, I just wrote Roger an email blowing him off, possibly for good. I am sure the medium of communication was gauche, but I also have little doubt that Roger may end up telephoning me regardless. I am pretty damned exhausted after this week. There were too many ten hour days and, despite the raise, a goodly amount of stress (particularly attached to coworkers, gossip, and jealousy). Consequently, I look forward to just blowing my Friday evening in front of the TV in my underwear. Tomorrow, I think I may get stunningly drunk on the off chance it will help me forget my self-defeatist romantic life.
Speaking of my underwear, I bought some Calvin Klein boxer briefs because they were on sale (I am not ordinarily a big fan of designer anything). They were supposed to be white, but I'll be damned if this material isn't so fucking thin that they are transparent.