Drunk and Single.

Drunk and Single.

So. For all of you who think being single is so fun and exciting...who relish the dating stories I dole out so enthusiastically, and who wish you had the freedom and spontanaity that my singleness affords me...let me give you a little glimpse into the downside of being single. The murky dredge of lonely nights, and no one to go home to. It goes a little something like THIS:

I'm driving home tonight after work, after what was kind of a shit day at work because I spent a good 2 hours pretty much YELLING at a couple of fucking morons who decided they (and their attorneys) were going to use the police department and yours truly to fabricate some kind of child molest/child abduction bullshit to facilitate their own interests in some civil lawsuit they have filed against eachother....if it sounds convoluted, it's because it is...and why these two fucking assholes ever had a child together I don't know....but they are both in their 40's and 50's - so one would think they knew better. They didn't.

Anyway, both these assholes got me so riled up today making false accusations against eachother, and trying to use the system (and me) to further their own agendas...that by the time I got out of work at 5:30 - I was in SERIOUS need of a fucking drink to mellow me out. No really. If there had been a bottle in my office, I'd of cracked it open at 5..I was so frustrated. People are so fucking stupid....and refuse to listen to reason at times...it's like I have to deal with god damn 6 year olds. WTF?!?!?! GROW THE FUCK UP YOU MORONS. Sorry...I'm digressing.

So. I get in my car to come home....and as I'm driving I'm thinking of who to call - that might calm me down....Jen's not home...Sandy is busy with house stuff....Vicki is training to beat the shit out of the god damn steroid driven American Gladiators (don't worry - she's just gonna run under their legs)....so I'm coming up with a blank. There's my guy friends...but I just saw them yesterday, and they're probably still hungover....besides, they can't offer the kind of ego-stroking, mushy-sensitive, sexually charged, self-worth validating, stimulating conversation that I'm really looking for.

And as I'm pondering my lack of options, I get a call from some guy who I know is interested in me....but alas, I couldn't be less interested in him. He's nice, but just not my cup of tea. So I chit chat for a few minutes...then find an awkward "out" of the conversation....something to the effect of "yeah - I don't know about getting together because I've really got alot going on" - which I'm sure left him thinking "WTF just happened?" You got blown off buddy....that's what just happened. I didn't feel too bad actually...and I erase the exchange from memory even before I'd hung up the phone. I know. What a BITCH.

So then I decide that the perfect sounding board for my misery is this other guy - who I dated briefly last year...who is super cool...who I still consider to be a friend....and who is probably just as miserable as I am. Well, he's got drama at least...so he can sympathise - right? And it's true that misery loves company.....so I sent him a text...and I wait. As I'm driving in the ridiculous traffic of SoCal...waiting for a response so I can blah blah blah all my fucking angst away to this guy....it suddenly dawns on me that he very well could be banging some hot chick right now - and is not about to stop to answer my text message. Which only adds to my frustration and sense of isolation. FUCK.

So I send a second (increasingly pathetic) text....requesting a response to the first. SHAZAAM. Like the heavens unfolding....I get a dingity ding on my piece of shit cell phone....alerting me to an incoming text. Only it's Dana. Shit. Wrong fucking person. Am I the only person in the world that HATES IT when you are hoping to hear from someone, hoping when the phone rings it's gonna be that person...and then when the phone rings you get so excited you'd think you hit the fucking California Lottery? Only to look at the incoming number and see that it's someone else?!?!?! It could be your mother, your best friend, your kids...but at that moment you actually LOATHE that person for calling you while your'e waiting patiently for a call from some other dipshit. Damn it I hate that. Develop some fucking ESP and know when I'm waiting for a call from someone else before you go texting or calling me. JEEZUS.

So I discount Dana's text...and continue driving 10 miles a fucking hour in LA traffic....waiting to hear back from someone who I'm hoping is going to allow me an outlet for all this pent up frustration and angst I'm dealing with.

Then it comes. And I'm very releived I at least garnered a response from this guy - because he's a notorious non-responder. But the text is something to the effect of..."sorry - I've got alot going on" - so he doesn't feel like talking or hanging out. Ah...KARMA. Isn't that just what I told Joe Schmo on the phone? Yes - you asshole Shannon - it is. And suddenly the irony and the tragedy of this fucking situation has come full circle and slapped me in my arrogant and egomaniacal face. That's what I get I guess. Payback is a BITCH (just like yours truly).

So on I drive....or should I say crawl.....another 30 minutes in the shitty (now Orange County) traffic, with a knot in my throat, feeling like I'm about to start crying for no good fucking reason - only to get home to my empty old house. With no one there to listen to my shitty-day tirade....and no one around who wants to talk to me (except that guy I'm not interested in) or make me feel better about being alone and overworked and totally underappreciated.

Fuck it. As this long rambling blog has probably indicated...I've decided to drown my sorrows in alcohol and sad country love songs. As a serendipitous footnote to the emotional commute from hell...as I pulled into my driveway and got the last text from my friend...thanking me for being "so cool and understanding" about the fact that he doesn't want to talk to me - this old 1980 song by Johnny Lee comes on the radio.....HOW FUCKING BRILLIANT AND IRONIC is the timing of THAT?!?!? God, that's just priceless. Que the soundtrack to the last fucking 10 years of my life.

Yeah...I guess I'm looking for love (understanding, friendship, support and company) in all the wrong places. Tou-fucking-che'.

I'm having another vodka cranberry and pouring my ass into bed. Tommorrow's gotta be better than this.