Spent last night v. smoky bar with J and GuitarPlayer A with purpose of checking out band that Lead Singer also happens to be member of. Will have to agree with J that Lead Singer is much better off in Finally Complete Band.
J: I feel like the smart girlfriend. "I'm so much better for him!" You know?
H: Uh yeah. Do I know? Do I KNOW? He doesn't belong as anyone's back-up. He's too good.
J: You're right. They don't see what they have.
H: Is this the part where I laugh maniacally and then my head explodes? Sounds familiar.
J: Huh?
H: I need some water.
Flirted like were 17 again. Bodychecking, bumping into one another unnecessarily and speaking v. close to sensitive ears in breathy whispers. Slid v. gracefully from car, though, before J could attempt any actual physical contact. Turned at steps to see him watching. That's the ticket!
Are going shopping tonight to buy J a new suit for company Christmas party. Am eagerly anticipating coworker reaction to parading v. sexy, suit-clad J around. Beats last year's gig with poorly dressed Drunken Irishman. Am huge proponent of idea that men come with labels. Drunken Irishman, Yeller, Commit-o-phobe, etc. Would have left last year's model on shelf with Stalker, Lousy Kisser and Oedipal Complex.