I wrote this in a private blog a few months ago and it was worth re-blogging for you all.

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I was in such a rage today that I couldn’t even manipulate my tongue to form any words.

All I could do was make extremely unflattering guttural sounds while jerking my arms in the air like a marionette in a tornado.

I got stood up for the first time today. And it didn’t feel good at all.

It was my second date with a guy who wasn’t doing a very great job in trying to impress me or to win my favor, but I decided to give him a shot anyway when he contacted me and asked me out to brunch. We were supposed to meet at his apartment, and I had a whole hot outfit chosen and mentally prepared to wow him like I usually do with people. Come on.

I had texted to tell him I was running late, because my roof decided to pour remaining rain water into my kitchen. The maintenance guy took forever to examine the crack in my ceiling, but how fucking long does it take to look at the ceiling and notice the crack in the ceiling? Why do you need a flashlight to look at it, sir? Why do you need to peel back the paint to further investigate? JUST GO TO THE DAMN ROOF AND FIND THE CULPRIT LEAK POINT. AM I BEING COMPLETELY IRRATIONAL HERE?

Sorry. Back to the story. I tell him I’m running late. No response. Fine.

I get to the apartment, text him again. No response.

It’s getting cold (by Southern California standards, this means the low 60s), so I walk over to my car and sit inside. This is when that feeling of embarrassment starts taking over. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Why the hell did I waste my time coming here? Why did I have to look so damn cute for NOBODY?

No. Words.

I waited twenty minutes and heard nothing. I peeled out of there, absolutely mortified.

The thing is, when I didn’t hear from him at all that night or even the next morning, I became concerned. As I mentally scrolled through the different tragedies that could have occurred to that boy, I remember jokingly telling myself, “He probably got trashed.”

LO AND BEHOLD, AT 5PM THE NEXT DAY:

I had to practice a lot of restraint not to lose my shit. I simply texted that he needed to call me and apologize, so he did and then explained about the wild drunken night he had with his homies. What upset me the most was that for someone who already knows about the effects of alcohol and how horribly difficult the next morning can be, he still made the decision to drink his ass off. It seemed super irresponsible and I didn’t feel like he put any value into our pending date. And then he TEXTED to apologize with that pathetic two-liner. I was too disappointed to give him another chance, which he asked for.

Cool story bro, but get out of my life.