As Long As I Don't Wake Up as Roach Tommorow, Everything Will Be Fine
Had a heart to heart with the 'x' last night, thus completing the social trillogy.
While helping her compose an email to her latest love intrest (most of her writing has entirely too many 'cuz', 'like' and 'you know' in them) she mentioned that it had been a long time since we had gotten drunk and rolled around naked together. I am most proud to say that I not only looked her in straight in the eye (and not at my feet) and stated clearly (insted of mumbling) that our last drunken sexcapade several weeks ago was our last. She was suprisingly receptive when I went on to explain that in order to be her super-best friend that she wants and needs me to be, such antics must cease.
Plus, I'm tired of being used for all the wrong reasons. The lack of foxy females within my own area code, who want to use me for my mind continues to be a sore issue. I am cursed and doomed to a life of social solitude as very few folks I stumble across understand what I mean when I state that I like getting 'mind-fucked'. My close friends do, but shitfire they have the same problem I do.
The decision to be alone, instead of lonely goes against my nature. However, with all the changes in my social circle as of late, I might as well make sure the metamorphisis is truly completed.
Crossing my fingers that I don't wake up as a Cockroach tomorrow morning. If you don't get that particular joke, it's quite all right, dearest of diaries. I don't exactly understand the Kafka story from which the reference point comes, but it seemed appropriate at the time.
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