I Fucked Shit Up, but the Night Isn't Over.

This is Fret. He looks down on my shenanigans.. even when I’m having fun.

The second I think I’m on a roll, the Universe kicks me in the ass.

As usual, we had our post-Girl Scouts game night with friends. Except this time it was “friend” as in, just one. I had no idea what to do, so I suggested that my friend build a deck of Magic cards. It was something we had discussed in the past, and it was something to do.

After much quiet card searching, Jenny forced us to use more than pointing and grunting to communicate. Somewhere in there, I missed a few (or a lot of) social cues. From Jenny. Cause I’m oblivious sometimes. While my friend and I whipped up some dangerously terrible decks, Jenny got ready for bed, grabbed her laptop, and went downstairs.

I didn’t even realize she was gone until my friend and I wanted to ask her to Google something for us. We continued to hang out, which ran late, because the Girl’s friend Bug was over, and her parents worked late. So, by the time I realized what time it was, it was definitely not the normal 9:00 pm. It was a whopping 10:15!

I didn’t finish my work. I made Jenny feel left out, and I generally sucked at being a fiance in my quest to be a good host/friend.

Before my friend left, he made a point of telling me that I had probably missed some cues, and he pointed them out. I was somewhere between that “should-have-had-a-V8” feeling, and tears. I promptly went downstairs, apologized a ton of times, and gave Jenny a neckrub. The neckrub had nothing to do with me having messed up. She had a headache. And if you think I was doing it to assuage my guilt, you would be completely fucking correct. Thanks for pointing it out, jerk.

Long story short, I fucked up. Jenny didn’t beat me with a broom handle (even though I heartily encouraged her to), and she told me that her headache had more to do with her going downstairs than anything. Which I totally believe, but that angry little man in the back of my brain is telling me her headache is my fault, and that I need to take that broom stick down and beg her to hit me with it. But I have meds for that, and I took them.

Have a great day, Y’all! And because tomorrow is a holiday in America, I will not be posting. I don’t want any of you using my blog as an excuse to escape a long lost relative (or a disliked in-law)… You know what? I will post a fake thing for tomorrow! Then, when you get called out on it, you can say: “See? He’s soooo fucked up!” Yes. Satire Thanksgiving. It’s now a thing. You are welcome.