The second coming of Alfie may have been premature

I cancelled a date today because I was feeling lazy. Worse, it was the third date after a streak of momentum. At her place. I was going to cook her dinner.

Way to turn down sex, alfie.

Yeah, don't ask, I dunno. Bad dreams about fathers and god? Check. Another girl I'm more interested in (mmm, Brittany)? Check. Sunday evening "I just wanna stay close to home and maybe grab a movie"? Check.

Still. It would've been good times, and I threw it away. Because I'd rather chill, grab some coffee, read my book, and go play basketball with Scotty and Kenny. On my terms, on my schedule, on my time.

Oh, screw that. I felt as though I can't be myself around Shonna, and I really just don't feel like putting on an act right now. Maybe ever.

Humph. I'm spoiled, I know. Giving up a sex with a clean, smart, attractive blonde because I don't feel like I can be myself around her... when I haven't even tried.

Most guys would call me stupid. Heck, I'd call me stupid.

--

So about that dream. I remember mouthing off to my dad. There were three things I was bitching about. I don't remember them. I just remember saying there were three points I wanted to make in my rant as I was making it. Something about not being there, something about supposed to be the one most protecting in my life rather than the one most damaging, and probably something about respect

I had a weird thought when I woke up, however. As I lay in my bed, I felt confused. Was I talking to god or talking to dad? I really wasn't sure for a moment. The painful feeling inside made me think of dad, however, and the setting in my dream reminded me of childhood.

Nevertheless, I couldn't help but being reminded of Fight Club. "Our fathers echo our perception of god. Our fathers abandoned us, therefore god abandoned us. God doesn't want us!" (not exact, but close)

--

I was really torn about Shonna. In the end, I fibbed a little and implied that I was sick. I told her I've been taking a bunch of Airborne vitamin pills in hopes that it would make me feel better and that I was "a few bucks shy of a million dollars", then asked if she would hold it against me if I cancelled.

It was all true. Except that she assumed I was hungover and spent, when in fact I'm just psycho. But everyone assumes that which is familiar to them, that which fulfills preconceived expectations, and so I'm in solid "human nature" territory. (Yes, I just rationalized my lie. Don't shake your finger at me, it wasn't that much of a stretch! :-)

Ok. Off to flirt with the Peet's girls...