Social Guy called this morning to ask if I would help him pick out new cross-trainers and then watch the game. So that's what I did, sticking to my theory that I just need to be out there doing things.

Unfortunately, I am still in that frame of mind where everything pales by comparison to, well, you know.

Also, I am still in that frame of mind where I am surprised, every single day, to find that The Irishman has not left me the following voicemail: "Nance, give me a call when you get this; I owe you an apology, and I miss you." Because he realizes now that he has thrown away a very good opportunity, and that I am a kind, loving, witty woman, and that I am just what he needs and wants.

Yeah. Well, it's a good thing I have this diary so I don't admit to these thoughts out loud, in the presence of people who would probably assume that I need to be placed under observation in a nice PSYCH WARD.

Now then. Today I found myself in a sports bar, hearing which girls Social Guy thought were cute, and I realized that there are several good reasons to stay out of sports bars. Not caring about sports is reason enough, though, so I don't want to think further about the other, more depressing reasons.

I'm going to re-read The S_urrendered Single now. It made me feel better yesterday, so I'm just going to keep re-reading it until I feel better permanently.

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