Hitch

It’s dark in my kitchen because they’re calling for rain and the storm clouds are rolling in.

It may be the hangover talking but everybody is pissing the shit out of me today so I’m going to have to go with I’m hungover for $500 Alex.

I grabbed McDonald’s for dinner to go along with this pathetic day. Nothing says “This day is filled with five billion craps” more than a chicken nugget combo from McDonald’s.

I sort of like how dark it is outside. Reflects my mood.

Unfortunately.

Today I was driving in the car and a sappy Bruno Mars song came on and I actually enjoyed it. Which is strange, you know, considering I usually mock songs like that and the whole sappy love thing.

Sometimes I feel like I’m Hitch (like the movie with Will Smith).

I’ve recently hooked up my two pals, then hooked up my other two pals.

Ding ding ding!

Give me an arrow and call me Cupid because damn I’m good.

But I’ll never do the same thing for myself.

Maybe it’s because I look for the same feeling I had before and the moment I meet a guy I expect that to happen. I refuse to give people chances and, call me a jerk, but it’s who I am. If you can’t swoon me within the first couple minutes of our conversation then count me out señor. Especially if you’ve tried to start a conversation with me the first time ever via text message or Facebook.

But there’s this dude and he’s fantastic and, in all of its sappy love ways, he happens to be everything I look for in the opposite sex.

And everyone keeps asking me why I don’t just go for it and I’ve come to the realization that I don’t really know how to.

Let love in that is.

After quite possibly being in love.

Or lust.

Or a nightmare.

Or whatever the fuck it was.

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