A stern look of disapproval goes out to K, Saturday Night's girlfriend. Rude reluctance to meet his friends is not cool.

A truly excellent time was had by all last night. Culture, food, spirits, and good friends. Plus, we were amusing as hell to our waitress at the Jug. This morning, I was awoken by the phone; it was Bachelorette No. 3 calling to tell me she'd gotten the part she'd wanted in a play. Gah, I was so tired standing there. I don't even know why, but I was so deeply asleep that I barely knew what was going on. My first conscious thought, though, was "Kill." Still, good for her. It's nice to see something in her life she's excited about. As for me, I've got to remember to unplug the phone before falling asleep. (The Mountain woke me up yesterday, admittedly at 12:44pm. The phone is not a good way to wake up, especially two days in a row, it requires more coherent thought than I'm good for that close to having been asleep.)

I spent the whole day at work, mostly feeling sorry for myself, the dark bastard trying to convince me that I'm going to die alone. "Listen, Mike, Lindsay, Skeeter, Olga, every girl you've liked would rather die a thousand deaths than go out with you. Senior year, Aisha lied to get out of having agreed to go to the prom with you. There's no way anyone will ever like you. Accept it. Also, Jake's going to shag Lindsay rotten on Friday in celebration of Valentine's Day. Face it, you suck. You're a loser." Yeah, I'm mostly done with that now, but I have to give darkie credit for sticking to the facts. From a standpoint of evidence, there is absolutely no reason to believe that I will ever have a meaningful relationship. The many reassurances to the contrary from my family and friends are really just well-intentioned lies. They don't know that I'll find someone. They can't know that. They're saying whatever they think will make me feel better. I hate days like this.