.....so I was being nice and mellow at home waiting to check out the adorable Seann William Scott (damn that boy is looking fine - please tell me he was bending JT over backstage) when one of my friends decides to go off on me (actually let's call him "ex" friend) - I can't even remember the last time I've ever had a friend get mad at me - I think I was 28 or something - and unlike this - that was merited. So T. and C. call and want me to meet for drinks and I cancel the night at home since I start bouncing off walls when my ire is up. Well a very good time indeed later. I get home - and crash.
But oops - I forgot something.
Upon waking this morning I noticed I had stripped down in front of my computer last night - boots, FCUK jeans, "Soul Rebel" t-shirt, a box of half-eaten Snyder Hard Pretzels laying on the floor - and then like Donkey Kong with a hammer - it hits me.
I sent a drunken email.
Not just any email.
Not just to any person.
To the Ex.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
He had been at my gym last night. We didn't speak. I held my cool and did my full work-out. I maintained the same distance I have for over three months of silence.
I'm not even really sure what I said - but I guarantee that spelling, grammar and punctuation were not present.
The jist. Oh damn - this is weak. I swear I have done nothing psycho like this the whole time - and well it wasn't psycho - it was human.
It went something like this:
It hurt like hell to see you at the gym tonight. I fucking hate you sometimes, but the reality is - you'd be a fool not to know I will always fucking love you.
I'm think it went like that.
I probably used the "F" bomb a lot more though.