My friends have been exceedingly kind and forgiving about any lapses in judgment since my not-so-recent-anymore advent into the world of being single. However, after the last alcohol-soaked debacle, I finally became the recipient of some well deserved words of reproach. Said words ranged from mild chidings to phone conversations across state lines that amounted to "HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE A CRAZY PERSON?!"
(Hello, Naz. I love you and would be lost without your proverbial ass kicking. I am just sort of glad you are not in the same state as I am right now because I have no doubt you would have PHYSICALLY kicked my ass.)
Things I have learned about myself to date:
1. I have no idea how to maintain a crush on someone I ACTUALLY talk to. Which is disappointing, because I am a total expert at having a crush on someone I have NEVER talked to after years of practice in elementary school, junior high, high school, and, um, early college. (What? I was a late bloomer.)
2. I have no idea how to properly imbibe alcohol. Not just red wine, which Jen had theorized I am possibly allergic to. But ANY alcohol. At least, around a boy that I might like. This information has been amply provided to me by my exes, but up until now I have steadfastly refused to believe it. Me = Total Believer.
3. Advice from well-wishers to the effect that I perhaps need some time to myself, sans relationship nonsense, had no effect on me. Total humiliation, however, works wonders. Suddenly, I can no longer bring myself to crush on a boy. Not just the boy I made an ass out of myself over. But ANY boy. I have already bailed numerous times on a perfectly nice gentleman who asked me out, the last instance being about two hours before the time of our proposed date. I feel horrible about it, but I think I made the right decision. He would not have had a good time going out with a girl who just a few hours prior was suffering from an anxiety attack at the prospect of making small talk over green curry. An acutely embittered person probably does not make for the best date, and just in case a heart as black as tar is contagious, I think I did the morally correct thing by containing the outbreak.
The only thing I can think about these days is learning how to DJ properly, and finding the time to take it seriously while still being semi-competent at work. The idea that I could make a room full of people, or even just a couple of my good friends, want to dance is SUCH a happy thought. To that end, my current suitors are Serato, Torq, and Traktor Scratch. It's anyone's guess which one wins my heart, and makes me World Famous Mixmaster Extraordinaire/Queen of the Universe.
I only said I was going to stop having crushes on boys. I reserve the right to remain delusional.
Going to a show on a weeknight is probably not a good idea for me, unless I suddenly decide that being exhausted to the point of nausea the next morning at work is an AWESOME feeling. Also, since I tend to go to sleep much earlier than most people my age, I probably do not have enough emotional fortitude after 11 PM to deal with fans who scream things at the women on stage such as "That bitch is hot!" and "I want to have sex with you!" Oh, and then there was the girl in the boy scout top who kept gyrating and SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS, much to the delight of her friends who would GIVE EACH OTHER HIGH FIVES every time she screamed particularly loud.
