Yet another boy break

My hiatuses from obsessing over boys are frequent and short-lived, but I'm on one again.

Rock Star has blown me off, which is fine because the absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder theory really didn't hold up as the days added up after he asked to reschedule our last dinner and then, well, didn't. The silver lining? Come on, there's always a silver lining. I was starting to think that The Breakup of 2003 had completely destroyed my ability to really dig someone. Turns out that's not the case, which was a very positive realization to have. Yes, I even make myself sick with the shiny optimism sometimes, in case you were wondering.

After the Hot Bouncer debacle, which in actuality was much worse than I let on here because Jean inquired as to his relationship status post-drunk declaration of lust ("Seeing someone" but it's "not serious," whatever that means), I left the bar with a nice boy I'd been talking to. While I didn't leave the bar with him that way, it certainly must have looked like it. So basically, Hot Bouncer probably thinks I'm an alcoholic whore now. Awesome.

Nice Boy wanted to walk me home, and after My Sharona collected his last name and cell phone number, we were on our way, despite the fact that I told him he would not be getting invited in and it was a long walk. We walked, we chatted and then I gave him my phone number, not because I thought we should date but because I wanted him to be my new best friend. When he called on Sunday and left me a voicemail, I realized that plan was probably not going to work and I have not yet called him back because I don't know what to say, thereby upsetting my future romantic karma. (Or possibly balancing it out, since Rock Star blew me off? Hard to say.)

It was all very overwhelming, and now I'm going to grab my eye makeup remover and my sweatpants and spend some quality time with my girls until after my 30th birthday, at least. Or, you know, until I change my mind.