Happy 2007: From what I've seen, the year's going to be interesting

Let’s see… Friday night I went to NRA’s place, and we hung out with his Best Buddy. Bonus points to the guy for having cool friends (well, at least the one).

The night centered on drinking (Belle, meet Beer Pong) and getting some things ready for their New Year’s Eve plans. Turns out NRA and his friends rented a suite out of town. Part of me wants to say that not inviting me really spared me the potential uncomfortable situation of being the new girl amongst longtime friends held captive for a night of drunken festivities. Another part of me finds it unacceptable that NRA didn’t even throw me a pity invite to this shindig, considering it’s a relatively short distance away and would be a good way to introduce me to all the friends he’s always telling me about and saying he wants me to meet. (And the guy had me working on decorations for his freakin’ party to which I was not invited!?! What the fuck?)

As for the girl, she was apparently supposed to be in the plans for New Year’s, but supposedly was sick and not coming until after the New Year’s festivities. However, there was no confirmation of this development before NRA dropped off the radar. Best Buddy said I have nothing to worry about with this girl, but the whole thing smells fishy to me. Why didn’t NRA tell me sooner she was coming? Is she the reason he looked at me, with absolutely no warning, and told me I couldn’t leave my toothbrush at his place? (As if I would’ve tried, Ass. I’m still pissed about this one.) Why did a guy who is so hell-bent on securing my company for everything else just avoid the subject of New Year’s Eve altogether? If there was nothing to hide, why didn’t he tell me about the plans sooner?

After inviting NRA over on New Year’s Eve-eve, I’ve heard nothing from him. He was supposed to call when he got home about an hour after we spoke that night, but he didn’t. No call all day on New Year’s Eve. Not even a text at midnight to wish me a Happy New Year. I have to say, I’m not feeling so appreciated and desired as I did just a few short days ago.

Perhaps I’m arrogant to assume he’d be thinking of me at the beginning of the New Year, and perhaps it’s selfish to expect some kind of indication that as much was true. But really, I think not. I certainly was thinking of him and wanting to hear his voice or see some kind of reciprocation of the feeling. So far, I’ve got nothing.

I mean, c’mon people, this is one of those nights you want the person you care about next to you. And, barring that, you certainly want her/him to know that you wish you were together. But it’s halfway through the first day of 2007, and I’ve got nothing from him.

So now I wonder. Did the girl come after all? Is he with her now? Was he last night? I’ve got no answers, and it’s making me feel more than a little insane.

I practically woke up plotting about how to exact revenge. This whole time I’ve been thinking, “I don’t want to be That Girl.” You know That Girl. She’s the one who keeps her guy on a short, tight leash. She gets mad about the smallest things. She won’t have things any way but her way. She has him constantly looking over his shoulder, always seeking her approval.

This morning I decided guys turn girls into That Girl by being stupid fuckups who run off to hotel suites with other girls and don’t talk you for more than a day for the first time in weeks while you sit around thinking how you could’ve, should’ve, would’ve found some other, more worthy guy to spend New Year’s Eve with if you knew this ass was going to leave you hanging. And then you start planning to give only the vaguest and raciest details of your evening with friends. Details that could be interpreted in ways other than “a group of friends at a ball.” And then you start planning to say you’re busy the next few times he asks you out, but you can’t decide if you should really busy yourself with other guys or if you should wait and give this one a chance to redeem himself.

Sigh.

Happy 2007, everyone.

Oh, as a side note (Or an end note?), I believe I was much drunker last night than I thought myself. I have vague recollections of my time at home after my friends dropped me off, but I saw one of my journals on my bed this morning and was surprised when I read last night’s entry. Apparently I called the New Yorker. Repeatedly. He didn’t answer, but this idiotic drunken bitch I know named Belle left him a voicemail. Fuck.