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And now I'm sitting on the couch feeling very stupid.  I'm sure the many glasses of merlot I've consumed have not helped.  It's late, like after 1am, and I'm guessing he's not coming over.  He's not coming over.  He's not.  He's pissed at me and he's not coming over.  You're being punished, and you deserve it.  You know you do.

I mean, I know I could call and say it's okay to come over.  I'm not mad.  I don't care if it's 1am in the morning, I'd still like to see you.  No, even better, I should go over there.  It's 1am and I can't sleep because I was missing you so, and I wanted to apologize in person instead of the phone, because that's how they do it on Sex & The City, and I wanna be as good as a TV show, I wanna be better than a TV show, I wanna be better than real life.

But then again, showing up at his door at 1am would kind of prove the whole pathetic clingy stereotype, wouldn't it?  

 

And technically, I'd be a pathetic clingy DRUNK person stereotype, and to open the door to something like THAT would just ensure that I'd never see him again.  Never ever ever.

I don't wanna go over because I'm scared he won't be there at 1am in the morning.  And if I confronted him on it, which I have no right to do, then he'll say he was still helping his friend move.  And I won't believe him.  And it'll be the end.  So I guess my consolation prize is to pass out on the couch.  Oh joy.  Some people can only dream.  I LIVE the reality.