This is how stupid I am...

I passed up getting laid last night to come home, wallow in misery, talk to The Ex, and have my heart broken all over again.

Oh yeah, I suck like that.


It goes like this: I was at The BAG (big surprise) and me and my pal (who shall remain nameless to protect his "virtue") were chatting up these two chicks that hang out there from time to time. They invited us to Chick #1's apartment to smoke a little weed. Cool beans. We walk (three blocks in the bitter cold) to the apartment, and proceed to drink beer, smoke weed, and try to figure out which guy would hook up with which chick. Chick #1 (who lived there) was hammered, and dancing and flirting hardcore with both of us. Chick #2 was less drunk, but equally flirty with both of us. What to do? Unfortunately, Chick #2 fell asleep, leaving only me, my pal, and Chick #1 (who was still flirting equally with both of us). WHAT TO DO?

She invited us both to sleep over, and she wanted to pull out the sofa-bed so we could watch Dumb and Dumber. Now, I really didn't know what the fuck was going on at this point. Did she want to bang us both? Neither? No clue. (Just as a side note-she has a boyfriend. Way to reaffirm my faith in womankind, slut.) I decided that my pal needed to get laid more than I did, and since I never want to see him naked (and MMF threesomes are creepy), I made a strategic exit. I made up some bullshit excuse about having to get up early (it was around 3:30am or so) and left. That's the kind of friend I am. I gave up the gootch for a pal.

The walk three blocks back to my car was brutal. I envied young Skywalker, trudging the frozen tundra of Hoth, wounded by the Wampa, yet soldering on. Until, of course, he passed out like a pussy. I did not pass out. Me being a pussy came later.

I came home and immediately hopped online. That's what I do. I can't help but check out The Ex's website everytime I'm online. That's who I am. I'm a glutton for punishment. We had spoken a few times since last Sunday, and actually went out for an evening drink on Wednesday, to figure out just where the hell our heads are at. Big mistake. Seeing Laura again was torture. Hugging her and smelling her hair. Wanting so much to kiss her and be with her...torture.

The moment we were face to face, I realized how much I still love her. Silly me. I told her as much, and told her that I want to work things out (slowly, one step at a time) and be together again. She said (in effect) no, thank you. She feels that we have/had too many issues, and things couldn't possibly work out with us. I had to leave to play a gig, so we said our farewells, and decided to talk again soon. I figured if we talked a few more times, I could convince her that we could make things work. I'm crazy that way.

Fast forward to last night, when I checked her website and got upset. I felt that she had misrepresented out situation in her blog, and sent her a message saying so. She called me, and we talked. A lot. About everything. The end result? Misery. I tried in vain to fix things. I told Laura that I still love her, and we're both obviously miserable without each other, and we can work things out, and have an even better relationship with our newfound perspective, and...

...and she told me no. In fact, she said "I can never be your girlfriend again."

Ouch. Big ouch. An ouch of Epic proportion.

So, that's it. I can't do the "just friends" thing. I've tried it in the past, and it never works. I can't be Laura's Pal, who she calls to cheer her up when she has a shitty day, and then she goes out with her friends to have fun and meet guys and eventually she'll tell me about some guy she met and how they went out, and hooked up, and then...

I can't do it. I'm not that strong. It's All or Nothing. That may sound selfish, or childish, or whatever, but it's just self-preservation. I couldn't handle Laura being with someone else, and having to hear about it and whatnot. Laura's idea was that we be friends, and just not talk about that kind of thing, but what kind of friendship is that? Friends talk about shit like that. I can't do it.

This is Shawn Hendricks:
A capable musician who gets to indulge his passion for performance several times a week. A man with an awesome, loving family, and a wealth of friends from all walks of life, who would bend over backwards to help him if he needed it, because they know he would do the same for them.
He has a decent job that he actually doesn't hate too much. He has a reliable car, a good place to live (for now), and two lightsabers.
Shawn has a wicked sense of humor, a quick wit, and a good heart. He plays bass, guitar, drums, a little piano, and is a pretty good vocalist. He has some artistic ability, and could probably even be a decent writer, if he wasn't so lazy.
All things considered, Shawn has it pretty good.
Except-
Shawn feels like he is going to die, because all he can think about is Laura, and how she chose loneliness and solitude over his love.