2001-04-16 :: 10:44 p.m.
Seven messages. In one night. That is more than a little excessive. "Where are you?" "Come meet me," "I'm drunk," "I'm at barmacy, are you coming?" For the love of God, man!
And then tonight he calls and I stupidly pick up and he goes "Did you call me?" like obviously trying to coerce me into conversation and I liked it better when we were just email buddies and I said "Um, no, sorry, I'm just about to get in the shower," and then he wouldn't hang up! My stupid fault for giving him my number.
God, seven messages! And four emails before even leaving the house!
Have I mentioned how much I loathe overly-aggressive boys who don't get the hint that if I haven't returned a call by 3:45am, it's safe to say I'm done for the evening or I'm busy and calling again at 4:30 and 4:40 is an exercise in futility, not to mention borderline psychotic? No?
Good, because there isn't enough tequila in the city of New York...