I'm sleepy. Extremely sleepy. But my mind is in a tangled jumble. (Did I mention I'm sleepy?) And why am I not yet asleep? (No, it's not because of Bess's mewing)
Well, it's all that Jeff Bernard's fault. I mean, that girl with the big (and I mean huge) (like, melons huge) boobs and fake nails pounced on him (literally, I kid you not) in front of my my mom, when he was pretending to be my boyfriend, and almost sucked his face off (imagine the horror).
Men will never learn (eye roll) (neither will mothers because mine asked me whether I knew that that Jeff boy was cheating on me behind my back with that other Barbie doll)
Ok, so she fell for it, but now she's appalled that there are no eligible men in new York, and she has very colourful plans of hooking me up with her best friend's son from Texas (do I look even remotely interested?) (Plus he's nowhere near as hot as Jeff) (what? I'm just saying, okay? Don't judge me) . The truth is though, that I fell for it too. And for a second there, I actually felt like we weren't playing pretend anymore, like there was something there, something worth my happiness.
The icing on the cake (and i don't know whether to be happy or upset by this) is that mum actually emptied the entire contents of her dinner plate on Jeff's head before she ordered me to get up, and stalked out in (in her words) dignity.
Okay, so I do kinda feel bad. But only a bit. Okay, maybe more than a bit. I'm not like mom, the hardcore slay-your-face kind of girl.
Oh, dear Lord! (Why me?!) I should have totally seen this coming. (Really Leslie, how do you meet a guy in a coffee shop and expect him to be what you were looking for?) (I need a reality check asap).
It now dawns on me, the reason why I can't sleep, the reason that I've been trying to mask with pity and exasperation.
I'm angry. And hurt.
I know it was a friendly 'lets lie to your mom and then get it over with' kind of a thing I had with Jeff, but the truth is that I kind of liked him too.
He lied.
He said he wasn't involved with anyone, yet he still was (big blond broad with a backside the size of all of Alaska, being the prime example).
***
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"He Didn't..." "He Did."
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