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An Admission...

I'm tired of being alone. There, I said it.

It's Saturday night, and I'm watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy. (Sidebar: NOT the show to watch when love has avoided your life like the plague.) I originally planned to hang out with one of my platonic guy friends tonight at the concert of one of my favorite singers. (Another sidebar: NOT the kind of date you want when your bed is cold.) What ended up happening? The concert was sold out. And my early hair appointment, comedy class, and training session caught up with me...and knocked me out cold. By the time I woke up at 11:15, it was too late for dinner...dancing...anything.

And now I'm hungry. I'm thinking about getting dressed and heading to an all-night diner. But there's nothing more pathetic than a lonely, single woman eating by herself in the wee hours of the morning. Sure, I could always put on my freakum dress with my FMQ pumps, and pretend that I'm waiting for someone to meet me. But who's going through that much trouble for diner food?

So I rummaged through my fridge and found some sweet potato chips to munch on. Still not satisfied. On either level. *sigh*


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As expected, he told me, "I thought you wanted just to chill." Then he added -- almost as a smackdown, in my opinion -- "I'm not looking for any relationship. And you're the one who involved me."

He's right. I did. And now I can finally UN-involve him.

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