My sleeping patterns are changing.
Although I doubt the addictive nature of Everything really has anything to do with it, it does help to pass the time as I stay up late at night. It doesn't matter that I have to be at work by 8 in the morning. I still end up wide awake until at least 2 or 3 in the morning. My roommates probably think that I'm on speed.
I met an interesting character this past weekend while I was out with my two favorite fag hags, Kristina and Sammie. We had made our usual Friday night journey to Popstarz, a way cool club that plays eighties songs all night. While tripping the light fantastic together on the dance floor, I noticed an adorable boi dancing with friends near us. I of course got Kris and Sammie's attention and bit my fist in his direction, to which they both nodded their heads in agreement. I watched him for awhile, admiring the fact that he seemed to be having so much fun more than anything else. I didn't have the nerve to actually approach him though, I'm much to shy to do that. I wish I knew why.
Luckily for me, I didn't have to worry about it for very long, because one of his friends grabbed me and asked if I was single. When I said "yeah," he pulled me right up to said boy and said, "then dance with him!"
I can't say that has EVER happened to me before.
So we dance for a bit, and then he wanders off. I'm thinking to myself, "oh, go me." My ego bruised, I slink back over to my gal pals and continue to dance, but now, his friends are all right next to us, and they keep looking at me like I'm supposed to join them or something. So I do. The boy dances with me some more, and so do a few of his guy friends, and suddenly, I realize I've abandoned Sammie and Kris, but that's okay, right? Yeah, of course it is.
Boy heads over to the bar, and I finally decide to grow balls and walk over there too. I stand next to him, ask the bartender for some water, and feel very awkward for a good 15 seconds before finally telling him he's a good dancer. We actually start talking, and I find out he's from Philadelphia, and he's leaving Los Angeles in 2 months because he hates it. Since I have my own love-hate relationship with the city, I probe a little deeper and find what bothers him the most is the people, and how they're all so fake.
We ended up talking for almost an hour. We danced some more, then the club closed, and then we all went outside and we introduced our respective friends. We kept talking. He was cute, he actually had smart things to say, and I liked him. I guess he liked me too, because I left with a couple of kisses from him and his phone number. Ah, life was good.
Now, it would be kind of nice if he'd fucking call me back, I'd be happy. Are even the transplants to LA as hypocritical and false as the rest of the locals here? I really hope not. Christ, all I wanted to do was go out for coffee. I've given up on boys, remember? I just thought he'd make a nice friend. Oh well. His loss.