I’ve been thrown for a loop this past week. Here were my goals:
1. Get rage-y with my friends for Halloween, rock my bangin’ Lara Croft costume, and DFMO with some anonymous Magic Mike impersonator
2. NO FEELINGS
Fail on both accounts. Lets start with Number 1. Remember when I was mildly worried about the fact that my lymph nodes had exploded and my neck looked really gross? Turns out that was only the beginning. I woke up Friday morning to find it had nearly tripled in size. Clearly OJ and chicken soup were not enough to kick this sucker. This was ER status. I grab a cab to the hospital, ignoring the look of horror on the driver’s face, and I still have it in my head that I will be ready to rage come Saturday night.
But then the ER nurse takes one look at me and shoos me to the front of line, and I spend the next eight hours hooked up to IVs and trying to explain to medical students how this happened to me. I am ultimately admitted, and remain stuck in the hospital until Sunday (props to the awesome friends who brought me food and magazines – ya’ll are the best).
It goes without saying that I missed the Halloween festivities, and most likely my Magic Mike fantasy (although Channing Tatum, holla at your girl if you’re interested).
My big fail at Goal Number 2 is all TimFerrissLookAlike’s fault. I don’t know if you’ve ever spent too much time in a hospital, but it is devastatingly boring, especially if you feel fine. The nurse coming in to take your vitals becomes hugely interesting, and there are only so many episodes of NCIS a girl can watch. So TFLA talked to me on the phone for 2 HOURS, and then he SENT ME FLOWERS. What. What what what.
I am not emotionally ready for this. It has been six weeks since breaking up with X. I should still very much be in the anonymous sex phase. Still, when TFLA offers to drive up and see me when I get out, I am excited. I have a couple hours to get home and prepare for the Frankenstorm that will be making its way up the east coast, and I end up putting my makeup on in line at CVS while I buy some last minute hurricane preparation (The freak tumor on my neck has mostly gone away).
Suffice to say this guy is freakishly good at everything he does, and we do not leave my bed for 4 hours. When he heads out I have that buzzy feeling that inspired every single Taylor Swift song. Then I discover that the hurricane has gotten me out of work on Monday, and I text him to come over if he feels like playing hookie (although I’m fairly sure the military kind of frowns upon that). He texts me back at 9AM to say he’s off as well, and he’s coming over. I tell myself that the giddiness I’m feeling is merely excitement for good sex.
36 hours spent in my apartment hiding from the hurricane later (Tuesday gets cancelled too), and I am nothing short of hooked. What the hell is my problem? Going into singledom, I figured fun = good, feelings = bad. I promise you I am not trying to get into another relationship. And yet I haven’t even logged into OKcupid for a week and I’m ready to the claw the eyes out of any girl that looks at him.
Anyone have any recommendations for squashing feelings?