Feeling: F-ed Up
Listening to: white noise
Reading/Watching: Regina, by Clare Darcy

Much too tired to say much, but essentially I have adopted Briana's method.

I used to lecture her for how quickly she went through guys- on Monday would meet them, by Wednesday she was infatuated, and come Saturday she was telling me how worthless he was and that she never liked him anyway.

Well this time I charged into something headfirst, crazily, without holding anything back or trying to hide it from myself. I followed the "Four Fs."

Fall hard.

Fall fast.

Fall out.

Forget* him.

* = substituted for a much more appropriate F-word that might have been misconstrued.

It's very simple, very clean. I find I have a taste for it. Might use this method in the future. Because if we never get to the third F, it will be good. But if Falling Out occurs (and I mean serious disagreement, problems, not just capriciously changing my mind), I'll already be well on my way to the forgetting. Anything that doesn't take long getting into can't take long getting out of.

It seems the only man worth talking to in this entire city was our gay waiter at Denny's who sat down and dished with us about boys.

(For those who want a reason: I know that someone told him I like him. And what did he do about this, in a span of two weeks? Nothing. Literally. He couldn't even uphold the friendship and camaraderie we'd previously enjoyed. He couldn't utter two words to me, and would walk past me and back without a greeting, so that I didn't even realize he was there until he was gone. Please.)

It. Is. So. Cowardly.

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