When Life Hands You Lemons...

...Throw them at a man. If only I could throw across the country. I would have to have one hell of an arm and one hell of an aim. Bullseye!

The good things about me not traveling to New York:
1. Instead of a plane ticket, I can save my money and get 3 or 4 haircuts. And it is getting hot, I need one pretty darn quickly here.
2. Instead of traveling to a place someone else lives, I can save my own money for the brand spankin' new apartment I will be stepping into, stepping into my own life.

It really does come as a surprise when you figure out someone is not who you thought they were. He may as well have written on a post-it:

I don't care about you, really.
I just got what I wanted, again. 


The "again" part is what kills me. He came back to ME and then he LEFT ME thinking that we were "continuing the relationship" (<-- his fucking lies, not mine). None of this situation was fair to me and I am just the dumb fuck who refused to see it.


The thing was that last night, 3 Ketel One and sodas deep at Chateau Marmont, I realized I didn't need him. I wanted him. I trusted him too quickly. AND HE MOVED TO NEW YORK, WHAT WAS I THINKING? As a matter of fact, I am kind of pissed that he said what he did about us before he left. I really thought we were something. And I know he did too. But I guess it will always ring true that trust is about a lot of events. Trust is not about what someone says, it is about what they do.


Enough of that shit. I think what I am really going to do is find a new apartment, save my money and go to a foreign country. Maybe if I neglect to talk because I do not know the language someone will like me. "Just sit there and look pretty" is something that has been said to me, in jest and ONLY by good friends of course, so why the hell not take that overseas?

Speaking of good friends, I am beginning to realize that almost nobody will be showing up at my party on Friday night. The big soiree I was planning in my head this afternoon seemed quite extravagant to be planning for a party of one (me). I quickly imagined going into the Village Idiot alone, looking at the cake waiting for me with one lone candle (which I would be paying for, naturally) and sitting down, alone. Then,  a waiter would ask me when the rest of my party would be arriving. I then imagined myself looking up at him with a sigh, smirk and a no-stress smile and saying, "it's just me".