Losing my religion.

Next time, I should probably tell Mike's nice Christian roommate--the aspiring movie director with a great flap of hair that tries to defy gravity and almost makes it, the one who lent me a cape last semester and is now training to be a DJ with the school station so he can play Norwegian death metal on air at 2 in the morning--that I'm an atheist.

I ran into him when I grabbed dinner and ended up eating and going to see this week's comedian with him...then joining up with the church small group he usually goes to on Tuesday nights.
No actual religion, just ice cream and friendly people; no romantic overtures, just bumping elbows in the too-small seats.
So I'll save the scarlet A. Maybe Mike's already told him anyway.

Dodging breasts.

The first unsolicited text message I get from Bluetooth in like three weeks is this little gem.

Wow, [his roommate] has picked up the trashiest girl ever. She literally has been rolling around whith her titties out trying to get me to suck them.

A few things, starting with DON'T CALL THEM TITTIES:

1. Am I suppose to be jealous?
2. Since when did he turn into a prude and stop liking the breast action this girl wants him to perform? I seem to remember that's one of his favorite parts.
3. I've just gotten back from a 14 hour day from a shitty night of sleep and dealing with the most complicated filing system on campus and hearing that the upstart genre magazine I might've sold some sci fi to was brought down by an insider posing as an editor of an already-established house. Yeah. I have no patients for your horndog college boy braggings.
4. Especially when that's all you want to tell me. FUCK. OFF.

What do I even do with this shit?
Edit: I texted him that since he got me thinking about sex, I was going to have some alone time before bed.
I got to use the "handled myself well" line this time.
Attention-starved me is still disgusted at him.

While I breathe, I hope.

It's either that or stare at the big blank in front of me and go crazy depressed trying to fill it.
On Friday, I constructed a miniature happy place at my computer cubicle in the j-school basement where I spend my most stressful minutes trying to bang out a story my editing teacher will accept for grading.

Calligraphy: from girl on my left. Smoldering: all from Hugh.

I spent the rest of the weekend depressed at my parents' house. Saturday night, I fell asleep before 10:30pm listening to an Eric Clapton's greatest hits album and woke up to the fast version of "Layla" with drool on my pillow and the smell of my own pussy on my fingers. Rolled over and slept for 11 hours.

I am depressed. I can't make myself care about anything and I'm tired all the time. Let's go to some Frequently Asked Questions to find out why, shall we?
Q: Do you regret your decision? (From my mom. She's talking about me dumping BF. She's asked this at least once every time I've gone home since then.)
A: Yeah, to be honest. I threw away one of my best friends and a giant chunk of my support system just exactly when I need both the most.
Q: But it's not really about BF specifically, is it?
A: No. I'm not scared of being alone. I'm scared of being lonely. Which is what I am right now.
Q: Are you ever going to talk to/hang out with Mike alone again?
A: Yeah. He actually called me during class and left a "rambling" voice message (like a minute thirty long. Ha. I'm the whole reason Katie doesn't check her voicemail anymore.) about grabbing dinner Friday. I called him back and had to tell him I was going home, like, then. But the thought made me happy.
Q: Are you in love with Mike?
A: Maybe. Probably. I love the way he always deliberately says my name when we part for the night, if that means anything.
Q: Are you ever going to speak to/have sex with Bluetooth again?
A: No. No, he doesn't want me anymore, and I'm tired of chasing him.
According to Suitemate, he and Clingy went on a coffee date today to discuss their status. Finally some straight talking, or maybe that's my optimism showing.
I want to kick him in the balls as an ending punctuation. Closure, you understand.
Q: So whatcha doing this weekend? (From my dad. He asks this all the time and in so doing, inspires some great big lies from me.)
Well, today I sat and listened to a guitar busker on the steps of the library. He was cute and he played "Wonderwall" and all his songs kind of sounded like "Wonderwall" but he was cute and I hope I didn't freak him out by being the only one sitting there listening.
Other than that, I plan on frying my retinas with the Internet and ignoring everything else except my soft dark bed in a couple hours.

I can't do this.

Both sides now.

Today, I spent the last twenty minutes of the workday (no I don't get paid and yes it's for school but dammit, it's a workday) putting my reporting skills to good use by Facebook stalking a guy I've randomly run into four times since early December:

1. Met him on the night I went to hear my guitar teacher's band with Bluetooth. He's the guy with whom I shouted "Sweet Child O' Mine" over the expensive cover band.
2. He recognized me when I went to see the free student union movie last Thursday. We both got there really early. I was wearing the same purple sweater, he said hi, and my brain did that thing where it goes "hm I think maybe yes oh yeah hi!" in rapid clicks of recognition.
3. He was in one of the student film thingies in the running for last Friday's finale. I saw him there in his mock trial suit because that's where he was headed right afterward.
4. This morning at the Statehouse I saw him as I was picking my coins and cell phone and j-school DSL out of one of those dog bowls they put through the metal detector in the lobby. We were both working, and we both smiled and exchanged pleasantries. He looks nice in a suit. 

Facebooked the friend we both have in common --> looked up the school's mock trial team --> got his full name --> found him on Facebook using cross-references --> sent a friend request referencing our coincidental meetings to identify myself. Also used a smiley at the end. Friend request accepted.
He might even be single.
AND HE LIKES TOP GEAR. SCORE. Can I call this one Hamster?

Mike called Suitemate and told her he just wants to be friends.
The three of us went to see The King's Speech this evening. He drove us in his old white Cutlass that shudders every time he revvs it. I sat in back but I got to hold his sword the whole time because it was back there too.
That sounds really dirty the more I say it: "I got to hold his sword."
But they argued. Like, for real. As in, he would start teasing her and she'd get defensive and all of a sudden it'd turn into a real argument. "Kids, don't make me turn this [student union, field trip] around." I actually SAID that MORE THAN ONCE.
She froze him out the whole way home so I blathered on about my possible article on our city's public transportation and made Mike talk about the science and engineering career fair until we got back and she hugged him and I punched him on the shoulder and then a few minutes later he texted me to ask if he should call her tonight or tomorrow and I told him to get it over with and ten minutes after that she came into the computer lab and cried on my shoulder and he texted me about how that was done, then and she sobbed about wanting her mother and having a dual pity party with Clingy and ice cream and chick flicks this weekend.
Hugs, people. Lots and lots of hugs.

Go forth and log stuff.

Everybody tells me how they feel about each other, and I wish they would stop talking to me and go straighten things out amongst themselves. 

Mike and I are going to see The King's Speech tomorrow, at an actual full-priced off-campus regular movie theater. Scandalous, I know, but Suitemate's coming too and SHE'S SO EXCITED OH MY GOD!!



I saw BF yesterday. He was driving his car down the hill to robotics while I was walking up to my radio show.
Sometimes at night, I mentally talk myself to sleep by writing Facebook messages to him that I'll never send. They're all variations on the same theme: I'm sorry for being such a bitch.

Why did I stay sober for this?

Never again, my friends.
I'm not even talking about Bluetooth; we'll get to him in a minute. Right at this second I'm talking about never, ever again relying on campus-run activities on a Friday night or the people who like to go to campus-run activities on a Friday night for a fun Friday night.
It doesn't fucking work.

Okay, picture this: the state fair with all its long lines and corn dogs and fried pickles (no, really, get that specific image of a puke-smelling dill pickle all up in your head and nose and gag reflex) and crowd and longass lines, but without the rides or clear night air or one-man band that makes the experience awesomely chintzy.
We stood in line in the student union for cheap metal engravings, airbrush tattoos (not me for this one, thanks--am morally allergic to anything on my skin that makes me look stupid), and caricatures. Standing in line took fucking HOURS.

I've been practicing my shit-eating grin.

Hours in which I had to  listen to Suitemate and Clingy giggle over Bluetooth, who by the way was standing right there. He flirted hard with her, touching and hugging and joking about sex and basically pulling all his Stock Moves (they worked on me too, okay?) while she took in the attention like a cat, with a sort of arching-back smugness and almost purring but not quite. But wanting to.
Completely independent of any complications, Suitemate and Clingy are the two most annoying people I've ever stood in longass lines with.
It made me want to stab all three of them.
Clingy's twin sister I shall call Subdue. I didn't want to stab her. She seemed coolly low-key and willing to call anyone out on their ridiculousness.  Truly refreshing.

Mike was suppose to go too but he's sick now. Which was another thing Suitemate was bitching about all last night, only she tried to keep it secret and coded even though we all knew exactly who she was talking about.

Bluetooth did not ignore me. I made a well-placed American Psycho reference, he surreptitiously poked me once in awhile, we contemplated using his mustard/ketchup puddles for finger painting instead of corndog coating.
But I got so jealous I had to step outside and put my hot forehead on a cold railing for a few minutes. And at one point, I was lying down in the middle of the basement mail room twitching at the sound of Clingy and Bluetooth playing foozball in the game room next door. I didn't have to check my mail. It was midnight on a Friday, not a shouting distance of being open.
Jealous. Yeah.
I don't want to be his girlfriend. I kept repeating this to myself. Nope. Don't really like him all that much as a person. But dammit. DAMMIT. OW. Secret sex lives hurt, y'all. This was exactly why I was not planning to and still am not going to the movies with them tonight. Not that they want me there anyway.

I was angling to walk him to his car alone and possibly thus grab a makeout minute or two, but that didn't even happen. We all walked to Clingy's car in the garage and then she drove him to his street-parked car, dumping me and Suitemate off at our dorm on the way.
FUCK YOU GUYS AND THE MATCHMAKING SUV YOU RODE IN ON. CHRIST ON A CRACKER.

I was fuming when I got back into the dorm. Fuming. I flung myself down on the nearest lobby couch, grabbed a year-old copy of Us Weekly that I started ripping through without reading, and initiated a texting conversation with Bluetooth that started like this:

Me: Why did I stay sober for that?
His response was immediate: Fucked if I know. What a waste of a night.

HA! All of a sudden I was validated. Within twenty minutes, I learned that he thinks Suitemate is annoying, too. He's already fended off a girlfriend offer from Clingy but he still loves the attention.
Oh, my god. *takes deep breaths of fresh air* It's not about competing against another girl for his attention. It's about finding out he feels the same combination of bored and pissed off that I do and also had to hide it for four hour and now wants to bitch about it too. Eureka.

Is there a female equivalent of blue balls? Mauve clitoris, maybe?

PS. Mike called me Thursday while I was eating dinner at the student union; he was wondering if I wanted to grab dinner at the student union. I told him come on over and I'll be back right after I take a post-gym shower; then I persuaded him to actually attend the radio station interest meeting he had been thinking about, and after that he found me in the theater right before the movie started (I was going to enjoy Robert Downey Jr. on my own time, thanks) and said, "I'm going to the next meeting." Hook line and sinker, thank you.
I'm happy that I have my friend back.
"We should use Google Docs to schedule our social lives. It'd make everything so much easier."
"No, no: Google Calendar. It automatically updates."
Your nerd is showing, sir, and it's adorable.

CAD

Apparently, in Bluetooth's world, this does not stand for "computer-aided drafting" and is not code for "I'm trying to let you down easily by making it seem like I have too much homework to be social tonight even though it's Friday." Apparently, I know too many engineers.

Oops. But I asked, and NOW I KNOW. HA.

Further bulletins as events warrent.