Another Saturday Night Alone.
It is 11:30 on a Saturday night and I’m in my underwear on the couch in my apartment. ALONE in case that wasn’t shit-yourself obvious. I’m sitting here typing this with a glass of $5.99 wine and a half-eaten bag of Oreos on the coffee table next to me. This was not the night I had imagined. After I finish writing this post, I’ll probably watch an episode of Sex and the City, glare at my unused landing strip, and go to bed.
I debated whether to write this post or not. For a second I considered lying and just saying “the party sucked so I left,” but the fact that I wanted to hide my embarrassment that badly is all the more reason to ‘fess up and write about it.
Here’s what happened:
