But always you.

I asked Nick to come to Jenny's party tomorrow night. If he really was interested in me, he wouldn't have hesitated to come. Instead:

Thats nice of u, but she personally didnt invite me so i wouldnt feel right

I elaborated that Jenny asked me to tell him about it, and he said he'll think about it. So I told Jenny to make sure to invite him personally tomorrow or he might not show.

Every time I think more about my situation, the more I convince myself that I'm just being a dork. It seems so elementary to me at times that he doesn't like me in that way and that I'm just misinterpreting everything he does/says. And then I turn the introspective lens on myself even more and go through all of my many insecurities about how I look and act and pretty soon I'm focusing on the fact that I'm just not that attractive anyway you slice it...

Why would I even think he liked me back?

Whatever. I'm going tomorrow and if he's not there, if he doesn't want to see me... then I'll just deal with it.

With a bottle of wine.

And my friends. But mostly with a bottle of wine. Or two.

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ME: Does it feel strange to not be thinking about the presentation anymore? I got home and actually felt lost as to what to do...

NICK: That is what weed is for lol

I love this boy.

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And we kicked so much ass. Or so said my PI and pretty much everyone we saw on the way out.

But now I find myself looking for something to preoccupy me.

And... I don't really have a reason to dress up anymore because we're not gonna meet for the presentation anymore.

So... empty.

Oh, well.

I'll just have to hang out with him the normal way from now on. Let the scheming begin.

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Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

If you know it, enter it; or, ask me for it.

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I fail at flirting.

But, I win at instilling confidence into my presentation partner with my explanations and background information.

All in all, an okay day.

Afterthought: Apparently, the fourth floor gays have a collective consciousness. Me, Dave, and Nick showed up at school today all wearing plaid. We were the only ones on the floor wearing plaid shirts and every time we passed each other in the halls I had to laugh to myself. Jenny, though not a gay male, was sad to have missed the memo. (She felt very left out.)

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Well... I would be if I could do these slides for the background material.

So homeboy and I met up yesterday (after a few long days of giddy anticipation) to discuss how we want to divide the presentation. Somehow, I feel I got the short end of the deal, but that's okay I guess--the paper we're presenting does fit into my field of (supposed) expertise. What this leaves me with is the tricky stuff: all the background material (that isn't really part of the paper). Nick is going to present the figures in the paper... but I hope that's enough to keep our graders happy re: equitable division of work.

We are going to meet again today for a possibly-long, not-so-steamy nocturnal encounter to put together our pieces and draw up the conclusion slides together. Right. Well, we would... if I could just get this crap done first.

Luckily, I think my lab will run short today (or so my co-TAs report) and I will have time to scrounge together more information to cram onto slides. It would be simpler if I did this on my own (I hate working with others on things like this), but then again, this is prime Nick-reading time so I will suck it up and take it like a man (no sexual pun intended).

I wonder how long it will be before I can come back home... Plus side, once we're finished, we're finished! I should then have time to clean up my apartment for my high school friend's arrival tomorrow evening!

So this week shouldn't be a total drag after all.

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I don't care how cute and adorably damaged you are, you are NOT allowed to call me up while I am sleeping off a cold and send me into panic mode because you misread something on the syllabus, the misinterpretation of which freaked me the fuck out.

I wanted to punch him in his face and then nurse him back to his regular cute self.

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So I text him before I take off from the airport in SJ and tell him that I'll see him tomorrow... unless I die first (referencing the fact that I'm sick). The boy, being as comforting as a prison cell in Siberia, texts me back:

"It's really windy here."

Thanks, Nick. Way to make the airplane passenger feel secure about his homecoming. "See you tomorrow, oh, unless some freak of nature gust of wind catches your plane at precisely the right angle to toss it about such that your pilot loses all control of the airplane and you die a horribleflamingcrashing death!"

Facepalm.

I'm safe at home now, btw. I can't wait for tomorrow!

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