Joe Goldberg is beginning to wonder if there's any more decent people in the world. With both Candace and Beck out of the picture, he's feeling lonely and starting to give up on love. That is, until Leila comes sobbing into Mooney's. Fragile and vul...
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It's cold.
Like, the type of cold that wakes you and makes you feel alive. Sharpens your breath, sends electricity shooting through your brain, makes you alert. Heightens all other senses. I'm shaking.
I am awake and I am alive.
And, my God! It's early.
6: 00 am on a Saturday? You've got to be shitting me.
Damn, I mean I had plans already to start my day early, but not this early.
A low moan rattles through my throat. I know I have to get up because my bladder is screaming at me, but do I really need to get out of this bed?
The short answer is, yes. Absolutely. Peeing in the bed is the least attractive thing in the world.
Attractive.
A-ttrac-tive.
My God! Joe!
Oh. My. God.
Bits and pieces of my date come flickering back to mind. Like a highlight reel, I see it all. The good and the awkward.
At some point last week, I forced him to help me make a cat sanctuary.
I did that.
Yep, I sure did.
We stayed on the phone, googling how to do it together.
All because I saw a couple of homeless kitties roaming around the community.
I bury my face into my hands and let out a long, frustrated moan. What the hell is wrong with me? Things were okay. We were getting along. I really, really liked him.
So why did I do that? Why did I make him do weird things with me?
Because I'm weird, that's why.
I'm weird and need more practice socializing with adults.
Stupid teacher problems.
I cape my blankets around me and roll out of bed, careful not to hit the walls of my loft as I work towards that latter.
Everything inside of me aches. It's a wonder I've made it this far in life. I mean, what kind of human calls a potential love interest at eleven o'clock at night sobbing because they saw a stray cat jumping into a garbage can in the freezing cold? And then spent all night with said person trying to think up solutions.
And then feeling bad about caring more for a cat than a person and asking about homeless shelters I can donate too because of the extreme guilt eating me alive.
"Why am I like this!" I complain to the empty house. "Why?!"
When inevitably no one answers, I toss off the blanket and prepare myself to climb down from the loft. My bladder isn't getting any better, I'm about to burst and this morning just couldn't get any worse.
