I would call you, but I don't want to look like I have no friends and am in desperate need of companionship, even though that's the truth.

Appearances count and if I don't act like I desperately need friends, then maybe it will work out well.

It would be nice to have a drinking buddy, seeing as how none of my other friends drink, and I don't smoke weed but they do, but I've already proven myself a fool in that department.

Simple math. Three pints = four bottled beers. You would have thought that I would have grasped that concept much earlier, however, you would be wrong. And that's where my problems lies. If I have that fourth pint, it's over my limit, and then it gets bad. Sometimes I wonder how I manage to put on pants with this level of stupidity.

That, or that level of stupidity allows me to think of things like a leather bomber jacket emblazoned with a giant vagina on the back and the words "THE VAGENIUS" underneath it. Because if we're talking silly, I can outperform the best.

You still will not call, and I will be sad, but it's completely understandable and in fact, what I would expect. I would completely understand if you never spoke to me again. But see, I understand these things, and have no hostility toward you for it.

The only time I would be hostile is if you were like the douchebag that I encountered tonight that decided that our driveway was a parking spot. No one except me really knows how tempted I was to key that car. That reminds me, I really need to see if American Science and Surplus still carries douchebags.

Anyway, whatever. I should just fucking suck it up and be alone. It's hard to, and I wish I could live in a world where actions don't have consequences, but I can't pretend that for even a moment.