Obvious Child is a good, funny movie with the most unrealistic portrayal of a human male in cinematic history.
Since leaving my place last Sunday A has texted me:
To say what a great weekend he had and thanks for everything
To say he wishes I was there right now so we could take a nap together
A picture of himself smiling, holding the package containing his phone charger (which he forgot and I mailed to him)
To say he wishes we were partying tonight (Friday night)
A picture of himself making a kissy face
Then he called me out of the blue tonight just to shoot the shit. During the conversation he said he loves coming to Philly—he has a really good friend here who makes love to him and [a bunch of other things he likes about Philly].
I think he’s this way (minus the sex) with all his friends so he’s just treating me like a friend. I don’t know! All I now know is if I want to bang someone it’s 99% certain I like him as more than a friend so “fwb” ain’t for me. What a cluster I’ve gotten myself into.
A: :startled: Oh I thought that was a body on the ground for a second.
Me: I always think I’m going to find a dead body.
A: … You dream big, craneyum. Keep kicking bushes; you never know.
Creating an OKCupid account (disabled my actual account months ago) to spy on A … not my finest moment.
Last night he sent me a picture he took of my eyes on Sunday, telling me how beautiful they are and that he’s glad he got a good photo. I replied this morning, thanking him and telling him I can’t wait to see him again. It’s killing me that he hasn’t responded. I need to sort out this situation real soon, y’all, because this is a mind-fucky rollercoaster to be on and I need a barf bag.
Oh my god Pennsylvania you. are. killing. me. with the beer situation. Since I moved away before turning 21 the archaic rules about where beer can be sold didn’t affect me directly. I don’t want 30 bottles of beer from the beer distributor. I want a six pack of cider, ffs, and I miss buying such a thing along with a bottle of wine at the grocery store.
Because I am now spending my feelings willy nilly, I have an appointment for a Brazilian blowout tomorrow. Is this a bad idea? Stay tuned.