Crappy Valentine's Day

I hate this day with an extreme passion. At 5:30 when I am leaving work, I want to go to the nearest bar and just get wasted. It shouldn't be that hard since there is one next door and one right across the street. I can take my pick. Although, on a cuter note, when I came to work this morning, there was a box of chocolate on my desk. No one seems to know who it's from though. It's not Hot Russian Guy, because he's not here yet. And if it was him, I would hope that he would give me more expensive candy than Russell Stover. The way to impress a girl is not with 99 cent Duane Reade candy. I don't expect Harry Winston, but I could do with a little wining and dining. But whoever did it was really thoughtful, so I am appreciative of that.

What a great weekend. I got to see my friends from school, which was awesome. We talked about all those sorts of things that I'm too afraid to talk to my friends here about (you know, those weird sexual details that only your best friend should know about, because other people might think you are insane). We talked about men and what not. I miss them already. Aside from a brief moment of drama queen-ness on Saturday night, it was a fun time. After watching an old fuck buddy try to take my friend home, then when she said no, tried to get me to go home with him, I got pissed off. I think ordinarily I would have been fine with all of it, knowing full well that he is an asshole and will do anything in his power to get laid without actually dating someone. However, after recent revelations of Buttface and how he went after my roommate, it brought that whole ugly mess up again. So I lost it. What is wrong with me that I attach myself to these shady New York men who think behavior like that is okay? This is not a pattern that I approve of and I need to figure out how to screen ahead of time for this sort of thing. I don't think I could take another episode like this.