This afternoon I was finally able to log into the internet using wi-fi provided by the luxurious marriot hotel. This past few days I've spent juggling between 12 hour work days, and lack of internet due to "server problems". This basically means, my only means of communication with the outside world from within the hotel would be the phone (at $.75 cents a minute). This ofcourse upsets me, and I must voice my numerous complaints with our most competent hotel staff at earliest convenience tomorrow. TY, story for yet another day.
REWIND, Earlier this week I managed to con one of the more attractive "young" new front-desk girls at the hotel to drive me and my work-peons to the other side of town for a quick bite; she of course gladly accepts, and escorts us to dinner(even tho this is looked down upon by mid-level management at the hotel) On the drive there, she shares way-too-much information about her yo-yo relationship with her possibly-cheating boyfriend. I chose not to capitalize on this cry for male attention. Instead I thank her for the drive there, and offer a rain-check on dinner, since she is unable to stay, and must immediately drive back to the hotel, to "tend to the front desk".
I did however managed to pick up on the fact that not only did I not act on this... But all of my co-workers who had the same equal opportunities also opted out...They could have ended up flirting with an attractive girl that we see around fairly regularly and flirt with fairly regularly. As per standard, we all awkwardly ended the conversation with out having the balls to ask her out. Why? I do not know. Really. I don't. I think like Roldy in Harold and Kumar we are all equally worthless, and have no value.
But as she drove away ... I took a glance back knowing of my serious shortcomings as a human being I realized that I have not asked a girl out (for a first date) sober. In over 5 years. Which in retrospect is like an eternity. Pretty shitty, eh? I know. I can't really count the "5 years" due to my on-again-off-again rollercoaster pseudo relationship with the belligerent ex. That is implied, but me and the new front desk chick now have this fact in common, and I spent a great deal of time shitting on her inability to see past this relationship of sorts, and moving on. The same problem clogs my arteries, and for sure will do so for years to come.
What kind of no balls loser am I? Eff me. Eff me twice.
Also…does that make me an alcoholic that I only have the intestinal fortitude to risk the eventual rejection from a lady whilst in the clutches of the OE? I say no. But its probably not entirely healthy.