What a shitty start to the day, I’ve had.
Woke up with a damned migraine.
But, it’s probably my own damn fault. More than probably. It is. Completely and utterly my fault because I got mixed up in some business the night before.
Went and had sushi with Besty last night. Evidently her and Motorhead are on “a break to work on our friendship.”
Which was preempted by her catching the feels for Greasy Guitar Guy.
So I had a rather awkward night. I went and watched her sing with her band. Motorhead was there. So was Greasy Guitar Guy. I had rode with Besty over there and Motorhead took me home.
But it was awkward as hell….
Like she’d look for excuses to go and hang out with Greasy Guitar Guy just kind of leaving Motorhead and me at the table giving significant “this is really fucked up and shitty” looks to each other.
Essentially whilst eating massive amounts of sushi, Besty was telling me how Greasy Guitar Guy has “awakened something in her” that she “thought she could never feel” and “would have regrets” if she didn’t “investigate” her “feelings” with Greasy Guitar Guy.
Now — Motorhead is a catch. He’s good looking, can sing, has all of his teeth, good full time job, house mortgage, decent savings, investments, car that’s paid for, is in engineering school. I mean, he does have some neediness and insecurity issues, but nobody is perfect.
Then there’s Greasy Guitar Guy, who is obviously good with his hands. I did see him play guitar last night, and it was pretty… er… what to the kids say… “tight.”
So, Greasy Guitar Guy comes over and says, “you told me your name is Carolanne, right?”
“Uhhh…. I haven’t said anything to you, but yeah, that’s my name.”
“Oh, Besty told me.”
He shook hands with Motorhead, complementing his singing skills, which are amazing — like win one of those TV singing shows amazing.
Motorhead and I looked at each other.
I said in his ear, “that was the most awkward thing I’ve had to go through in a long time. Even more awkward than the dermatologist inspecting every inch of my skin for cancer.”
Also, this place had no A/C. It was dark and still in the 80’s night. Hell, it was cooler outside than in this place. It was hot as testicles.
Stayed out until my bed time. Which means I got home and (cold) shower and got in bed about a quarter til midnight.
And I woke up with a goddamned migraine.
… didn’t make it into work until a quarter til 11am.
So, fun times.
Which brings me to the next migraine inducing thing I’m going to have to do — have a come to Jesus with Besty.
Because it was shitty. It was very fucking shitty. And I love this girl. I want what’s best for her because she is my best friend. But damn. It’s killing Motorhead watching her flirt openly with Greasy Guitar Guy.
So, I have a hidden talent that, well, is kind of hokey.
I read Tarot. And I’m petty… really, damn good. Not to toot my own horn.
Besty asked that I read her cards this afternoon.
Yeah… I feel another migraine coming on. Not that this one hasn’t gone away.
Also, as soon as I got home, I called S.O. and let him know I love him and I’d never do that to him.
He was very appreciative.
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