The Bitter Truth

After a bizarre week, and in my opinion, a slightly stressful Saturday night, I had a kickass day with UK. I came home and caught up on Entourage, checked in on the Emmys, read some blogs, listened to some of Remax2's music, and have found myself with the shittiest case of insomnia on record. Which leads to... oh crap, the reflecting and regurgitating of the failures of my lovelife over the last 7 months.

After a bevy of faux/non-relationships and false starts, I find myself pretty much back at square one. This is not to say that I haven't been having fun since becoming single. Believe me, much fun has been had. I'm not knocking the midnight rendezvous and back bar makeout sessions...the dirty emails and even just the new guy friends I've churned out from all of the above...but I'm starting to worry that I'm becoming way too accustomed to living in this sort of unstructured, unconventional "dating" parallel universe.

Not that I can even call it dating. Seriously, when was the last time I went out on an actual DATE? Do guys even do that anymore? ....I can't remember the last time someone fucking called me up and said "let's go to dinner". Or even called me up, for that matter.

I'm the girl that gets the texts at 2am. I'm the girl who is "the other woman". I'm the girl who responds quite favorably to dirty emails, in the hopes that maybe, just maybe he will like me again. I'm the girl who is sort of ok with not getting the fancy dinner or even dinner, at all. I one time suggested a dinner date with someone who I'd been out with BEFORE, and he thought dinner made the date too "important". I do believe the exact phrase he used was "not tenuous". Yet somehow, he thought I was going to end up in his bed. I do not need dinner to end up in someone's bed. But it would be nice.

I haven't had much luck meeting people in real life--that is to say, I meet tons of people in real life, but none of them seem to be overwhelmed by me, or vice versa. I'm starting to wonder if I might be getting reallllllly picky in my old age. Or else I've gotten reallllllly ugly in my old age. Or a combination of the two.

The online dating thing is just getting old, pure and simple. How many more times can I watch myself be rejected, over and over again, on the basis of merely a few pictures and some ridiculous blurb that I have written about myself. It's tiresome. Yet I continue on, in the hopes that maybe I will be one of those success stories that we see in the ads...the douchey couple giving each other moony cow eyes, talking about how crotch.com brought them together. I hate those fuckers. But yet I still want to be them.

It's Really Dark Outside at 2:45am

How the fuck is it possible that I was lying in my bed at 10:30pm, watching Laurel Canyon on my laptop, fought to keep my eyes open, awoke (for what I assumed was a brief moment) right as Frances McDormand and Kate Beckinsale were about to have a threesome with Alexandro Nivola (who could sleep through THAT?) and then BAM. I never went back to sleep.

Fucking hell.

I have surfed the internet 50 times over. I looked for new hairstyles on "trendylonghairstyles.com". I read every gossip website known to mankind. I read blogs that I had never read, and learned way too much about people I didn't want to know that much about to begin with *shudder*. I got up and ate a rice cake. And then another one. Then felt guilty for going over my stupid fucking Booze Watchers points. Lord. Eating disorder in the making.

I thought about all the things I could possibly think about. The whys and hows of all of my relationships and lack thereofs. The friendships that I thought were blooming, that feel like they're dying. I formulated an email in my head, then when I tried to write it it sounded retarded and I decided that it was too intense and I should leave well enough alone. Then I attempted to reply to two OTHER emails and realized I am not in any frame of mind to be making decisions about anything. NOBODY makes decisions at 2:45am!

I'm now obsessing about the fact that, I have 5 hours in which to get some shut eye. This would be acceptable if I was having a bangfest right now. But I am not. 5 hours of sleep after Bangfest, good. 5 hours of sleep after self-induced insomnia, bad.

Stupid stupid coffee that I had 12 hrs ago. Is that the culprit?

Or is it just my brain working in overtime? It's been awhile since it worked the night shift.