Almost Lover

   Well readers, here I am, tail between my legs, to confess my drunken foolishness.

   Tuesday night, Esther & I went out to the bar. We invited that guy I mentioned who liked me and then didn't like me so much and told him to text her if he wanted to meet us. Eventually he called her and asked to meet her at a store about a block away. Just her.
   I immediately began freaking the ef out, convinced he was going to tell her how annoying I am and why would she ever hang out with me, et cetera. She drunkly reassured me that this was a good sign.
   I stayed at the bar with a few girlfriends who were also there while she left. About fifteen minutes later, she texted me saying his ex girlfriend had showed up.
   Long story short: He went somewhere in her car with her while she waited in the parking lot and I waited at the bar. Already more intoxicated than I should have been, I nervously started pouring drunks down my throat with a speed that, in a contest, would have been impressive and garnered applause. Unfortunately, I was not participating in such a contest, and was actually just sitting at a table singing D'yer Mak'er really, really passionately. For over an hour. 
   Finally, Esther returned. Alone. She said he had forgotten something at home and was getting it and then coming to meet us. I mumbled something about exhaustion and she suggested leaving to meet him.
   When we did, I was wasted, exhausted and bitter about having been kept waiting for such a ridiculous period of time, so my contribution to the conversation mainly went like this: "I need to go to bed. I'm so tired. I need to go to bed." with the occasional aside about having been at the bar alone for over an hour. (I wasn't actually alone, but he didn't know that, and at the time, I didn't feel he needed to.)
   We did return to the bar, and he kept a noticeable distance from me. Esther whispered to me that they hadn't had the chance to talk before his ex showed up, and that all he had said was that he "doesn't want to date anyone right now."
   In my mental state, I took this as a personal affront and was devastated by it. We sat in the back room, the three of us, and eventually were joined by this old ass pervy guy I worked with in high school. He sat next to me and blatantly stared at my boobs until finally asking "Did you ever work at Water Street?" 
   "The Clarkson House," I slurred, dropping my head between my hands.

   Suddenly, Esther and I were alone at the table together and I felt my eyes get teary. My exhaustion and misery had collided, with this awful result. She consoled me and I managed to pull it together by the time the object of my drunken unrequited love returned. He immediately began asking me what was wrong, and I insisted nothing.

   When we finally left, he walked us home. All I really remember about this trip was making some weird comment that didn't make sense that may or may not have included this little gem: "Sometimes I think that's the reason boobs exist, it's so fucking cold."  I don't remember what my reason for the existence of boobs was, but I do recall that my comment on the weather was completely unrelated to the beginning of the thought, and I got confused looks from both Esther and our male companion.
   When we got back home, he & I ended up outside alone together, and I started drunkenly rambling about how embarrassed I was and how unlike me this was, which is true. I know you're all remembering this ridiculous night and not believing me, but really guys, I'm not usually that girl.
   This conversation I remember little of, although I do recall saying something to the extent of "I'm kind of into you." and him offering some lengthy reply about having trust issues. The thought of someone explaining trust issues to me as I was unfamiliar with them was funny to me, and I may have laughed, which I'm sure was offensive and made him think I was even more of a crazy bitch than he already thought I was.

   I eventually went inside and totally fell apart, fortunately without witnesses. I realized suddenly that I was finally upset about the engagement I had been ignoring, as well as the fact that Bobby up & left for school without so much as a goodbye. Then, when I asked him if he was coming home for my birthday (which is on a Friday night, and it's barely an hour drive), he just said "No, I don't think I'm going to do that. This was especially offensive because I was 500 miles away for his past two birthdays, and I spent whole days and hundreds of dollars on public transportation to surprise him BOTH years. (And I bought him a good luck present for the coming year! It's this really awesome hat he would have totally loved. He isn't going to get it anymore though, because seriously, dick move. Times two.)

   I woke up the next morning and went to a job interview (I've been to 3 this past week!) and then went home and wrote an apology message via facebook for my drunken antics. I tried to sound as rational as possible, and explained my lack of emotional intelligence and how feelings confuse me and I need time to process them. I went on to say that, because I was drunk, rather than contain my emotions and determine where they were coming from, I simply started guessing out loud what the problem was, and projected my unhappiness onto him because he happened to be present.

   That was over 24 hours ago. No response yet. He thinks I'm a grade-A nutjob. There goes that, I guess.

   Next?