3.21.2006

When I said Play Me, I meant in a good way.

Oh my god. A year's worth of work wasted.

I thought I was totally cured, you know? I haven't been given so much as a shiver from not one guitar-toting-black-glasses-wearing-emaciated-pretty-boy in god knows how long--but this one. Goddamnit.

It's always like this, it's like, "Oh look! Sean and Miranda are friends! Watch them Merrily drink beer together! Tra-la-la-la-la!" and then next thing you know it's like, "Oh! Look how well Miranda's errant thong matches the carpet in Sean's room! Wow! They have jungle fever! Excellent!" except not so excellent.

Let me explain to you all my head right now:
Sex=bad=complicated=ruins friendships. So, I tried to lay it all out, dig? Well, Sean didn't. I have taken some licenses with this conversation (drank far too much whiskey), but it was something like this:

"Hey Sean, this seems a little unnecessary, maybe we shouldn't do this."
"What! Why?"
"I mean, well, if we don't do this it wouldn't be like...complicated."
"Okay. But if we do do this, it would be like...fun."
"Yeah, thanks for that Sean. You're totally right! I was totally unaware of that!"
"Shut up. Fuck me."
"Fine. Put your guitar away."

--M

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