10/26/2005 - 9:28 p.m. | no one's sleepin' in my bed

Explaining why I do what I do sometimes is difficult, but I try and have some answer figured out � especially when I have a feeling someone else is going to ask.

Hot Michelle asked me if I wanted to go out to Firehaus with her tonight to watch the game. �The game� I could give a crap about, but I like that bar a fair amount, and it seemed like it would be pretty fun to get drunk with her as she suggested. She�s fun on AIM, and we still haven�t been out together since the meat shots. And yet, I am somehow not out there right now � I am actually in the bowels of the Digital Computer Laboratory (as opposed to the Analog Computer Laboratory), typing this stupid entry. And do you know why? I can�t entirely put my finger on it, but the answer starts with a spur and ends with an its.

I know this is the case, for as soon as I learned he was going out to Firehaus with her, with us, I had a sudden urge to go hide in my room. Which I did (pretty much). Now, explain. Okay, uh� well, we�ll start with what it�s not. It�s not like I thought this was a date or anything, that Spritz was somehow cockblocking me. No, not at all. To be honest, I sort of consider �Hot Michelle� to be a misnomer (although I myself created it) and really would just like to be her friend. She could have any other guy with her there, a whole slew of them, and I wouldn�t care if I could just drink and relax. Problem is, anytime the two of us consider hanging out in person, Spritz is thrust into the mix (or thrusts himself in there, I�m not sure) and makes things weird. He is a jealous fucker, that Spritz, and a competitive one, so even though H. Michelle is not �his� by any means, he still acts like it� especially when he sees someone he considers his inferior (e.g. me) as potentially trying to fuck with his shit. He gets pissy and pries for information and overall simply must must must �beat� me � except I�m not really competing with him for anything.

Like, that time we met up with her and her friends at Joe�s. He crammed himself in the middle and tried to get the brunt of her attention, talking and dancing with her more than anybody. Maybe I was supposed to challenge him � maybe that�s what he wanted even � but I really don�t give that much of a fuck. I�ve not understood competition in normal things (cards, board games, sports), and maybe this is supposed to be important, but well� I say, fuck it. I am not fighting for the attention of some girl. That is just creepy and masculine and nothing like me at all. I�ll sooner die alone. How do I compete? I exist, I guess, and if you happen to think my set of traits are better than someone else�s, well, bully. But striving to win and getting in someone�s face and trying to outdo someone who is supposed to be your friend� It seems shitty. Maybe I�m just afraid I�d �lose,� whatever that entails. Anyway, if the choice for this evening was an awkward power struggle or sitting here lamely, she possibly pissed off for me being a flake (again), well� I�m still happier with this choice.