I scanned the above from the November issue of Glamour magazine. I have to say that from my perspective right now, truer words have never been spoken. I am so living this right now.
Date #3 with Marc last night. I am already tired of him. In truth, I think that we were both just plain tired. I didnt put any real effort into it, and he was exhausted from a long day at work and then some kind of symphony thing that he had to attend before he picked me up. At least he picked me up.
He was then forced to listen to me whine about my job and complain that I had to be at the office at 6:30 this morning for yet another 7AM teleconference with Hong Kong. I feel shitty about doing that to him. But bluh. I just dont think Im that into him. I really, truly wish I were. Hes one of the higher-quality ones out there, I guess youd say. I am an idiot.
I am, however, just that into Q. This really sucks. I thought about little else other than the the image of his head between my legs today. Even (and especially) during the teleconference. I am aching for him. I even asked him to come out and play tonight, but I forgot about the Yanks/Sox. That means a no-go on the nook-nook.
What is my fucking problem?
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