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a quick anecdote
Wednesday. 4.30.14 12:50 am
Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

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oops
Monday. 4.28.14 8:23 pm

"[Unicornsaurus]... Will you go on a date with me."

"...Sure?"

"SHE SAID SURE! SHEEE SAAAID SUUUURE."

Not NuTang Steve and I have been friends for a few years, but that still isn't long enough, apparently, for me to tell the difference between him being serious or not. Are we going on a date, May 9th? No idea. Is it a real date, or just a friend outing that he's being silly about? Not sure. Does he even know whether it's a date or not? Super not sure.

Let me note that this whole thing was prefaced by him talking (joking?) about how we need a pact to get married, if we're not married by a certain point in our lives. He told me, to explain the date, that we need to go on at least one before getting married. I'm sure you can see why all of this has me confused but in an unconcerned sort of way.

So it's all kind of hilariously, awkwardly ambiguous.

...Shrug.

Either way, I guess I'll be ready to don a sun dress and eat some pizza, come May 9th.

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23
Tuesday. 4.22.14 3:00 am
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spring
Friday. 4.18.14 1:40 am
It's like I'm broadcasting all my thoughts on some weird TAFKAM radio. At one point, I started really missing him to the point where I was actually saying those words (I do not say that I miss people), and somehow, only a couple of days later, without having to say anything, I got a text from him and we got to see each other. Then, I start to worry that being involved is going to derail our friendship completely, and only a day after admitting those fears to myself, he pops up just to chat as friends.

Ugh. It's hard to be content with regular friends when there exist these super friends who respond to my needs before I even know I have needs.

He would hate it, but I could gush forever about how cool he's been lately. There would be eye-rolling. There would be dramatic sighing. There would be unpleasant face-touching to try to stop me from talking. At some point, even, there would be a super macho explanation of why I am wrong, and this would occur only after regarding me with a very condescending use of my name that makes me roll my eyes (but still smile. Out of burning anger). It would be an ordeal. The sighing period alone can last several hours.

To avoid the awkward and persistent wrath of the giant chimichanga, I'll leave it at this: Things are frighteningly content, and it makes me nervous.

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