Meow?

This post comes to you from the heathen bedspread of a certain Technicolor Boy. More accurately, it comes from my glorious cellular device, which I am typing on as I lay in the aforementioned heathen bed linens, awaiting the return of their owner from his job at a tastey speedy-but-not-fast food establishment.

The company of his cat, whom I still think is a crux in our relationship despite being absolutely adorable, is simply not satisfactory to me at this time. 

I have a series of semi-related thoughts, but I don't have the energy to transition smoothly between them, so I am just going to do the list-y thing and hope that the progressions make sense.

--Last night, Technicolor Boy brought me to a party. I thought of it as a good sign (that he feels confident bringing me into his social life) and a bit of a test (to see how I operated in his social circles). As for the sign part, it's debatable, but if that party was a test, I definitely passed.
--I am a social beasty! I worked that party like it was my job. Let it be known that I made Technicolor Boy look very good to his peers with my behavior and conversational networking.
--Further evidence of my fabulousness can be drawn from the amount of flirting that I received from basically every male at the party; it thoroughly surpassed my predictions. Admittedly, I was one of very few attractive females at the party, not to mention I had the whole 'fresh meat' thing going for me, but I really didn't have to work hard to get attention.
--At least, I hope that I wasn't working that hard for it. There was this one girl at the party who was hotter than I in every respect (I give credit where credit is due) but the way she whored for attention was a little sad. At one point, she took off her shirt. I dearly hope that that wasn't the impression that I gave to everyone.
--I am most concerned about the impression that I left upon a certain individual. This is problematic.
--This certain individual is one of Technicolor Boy's super tight buddies, and we shall refer to him henceforth as Puppy-eyed Boy. I met Peb at Global, but was too wrapped up in Technicolor Boy to really pay attention to him. However, after spending some time actually talking to him, it is quite clear that I am being coveted.
--He is fucking cute. I don't just mean looks, but he has certain personality traits that Technicolor Boy vehemently lacks.
--If I decide that I want him, I could have him with very little effort on my part.
--Now I'm questioning all my shit with Technicolor Boy. Again. Fuck fuckity fuck, why do I allow myself to do this?
--I feel like I worked really hard to get to this point with him, but now that I'm here, I'm wondering if I worked for the wrong person. It's not like I'm going to do anything with anyone, especially not right now, and especially not Peb, because I really care about Technicolor Boy. But, the thought is now there and there is no way I can keep it from occasionally popping to the forefront of my brain.
--I'm going to allow this weird, sudden inkling for Peb to marinate, as it would only be destructive right now. However, knowing that someone close to Technicolor Boy has a thing for me could prove useful if [when] things go downhill between he and I. This fact could be quite valuable if there is any cheating on Technicolor Boy's part.
--I don't want to hurt Technicolor Boy, but if he hurts me, I can't leave myself without a counter attack. I always have the last word. Always.
--Sweet God, I am such a vengeful bitch.
--Maybe I'm just freaking out due to the hangover and the fact that I have woken up for the third day in a row in these heathen bedsheets. Who spends that much time with a person?

I think the conclusion that we can draw from all of this is that I think ahead far too much. Also, that I am quite the little sex panther and my very presence heightens the attractiveness level of any social gathering. Kidding.

But seriously. I know the 'run away' instincts have been bad lately, but why in the fuck would they point me to go running to someone else? Wouldn't my going from one guy to another (and not in a one-night-stand sort of way) simply exacerbate the problem?

Gah. Of course as soon as things would start working, I'd have to find a reason to fuck them up. I'm going to exercise self-control and not destroy any relationships (right now) but, damn, I reeeeeally want to stir the pot.

Other thoughts for this morning include:
--I think this cat hates me.
--Part of the reason why I think I'm starting to want to fuck shit up is because I've been spending too much time at Technicolor Boy's house. Before I start to take him for granted, I think I need a little absence to make my heart grow fonder.
--I have a sore spot on the inside of my right ankle because I got drunk a few nights ago and tried to give myself another tattoo. Unfortunately, tattooing right over a bone hurts like a motherfucker, so I only got a few passes through before I called "fuck it."
--The shower in this house legitimately terrifies me and I refuse to use it. Ucky boy shower, gross!

That's about it. I can hear Technicolor Boy unlocking the front door, so that's going to have to do for this cellular post.

 Advice or something? Please?



Julia