In-fucking-credible weekend if I should say so myself. I finally put most of my worries (as of late) behind me and just tried to have a good time. My oldest and probably bestest friend (we would totally talk more if she didn't live in london) got married to her man in New Orleans this weekend. By know I should basically apply for NewOrleanian citizenship cause I know the mother fucker like th back of my hand, and pretty much any place you might want to go to, so this made me a good lead for old boy Sion (groom) and his men's stag party. It was great, the groom had on a pimp costume as we lead him down bourbon st. and he was quite the popular tourist photo op. (Sorry, I forgot my cam for th whole trip, so I must rely on the kindness of other guests, when they get their pictures up) It was a great night indeed that included a diaper, more than one lap dance, boobs, strangers and flirting.
The next day, it wasn't hard getting over the hangover (I never over did it, I stayed pretty levelheaded) I got beautified for the wedding, haircut, beard trim, picked up my suit from the cleaners and then made it to the rehearsal dinner. Shortly after the festivities died down, some of the brits were interested in a fast and loose disaster tour of the city, and who else would be a better tour guide than I (I've been all over it, and actually have given the tours to friends family and the like before). So off we went, and nothing but gaping jaws, and a million questions that were answered to the best of my ability/education. Needless to say, they were impressed and I think I gave them an accurate interpretation of the problems there. Most turned in early, whereas, I went on to meet some people from Atlanta I had met from the night before at Dragon's Den on my favorite side of town. We didn't stay there long, cause just as I arrived, the worst group of them all went on, and they decided to leave and get some eats. We had a good time, and some great food and I thought I may have been hitting it off with Angela, but it didn't seem to be reciprocated. I think maybe she keeps herself heavily guarded, but I have a phone number and would be willing to make that 6hr. drive to visit.
Sat. was the wedding, and after taking an early morning stroll to observe the mighty mississippi river in action, I went on and relaxed before getting dolled up. One of the brit guests and I were in the same hotel and he had thought the time was an hour earlier than it was, so he came down to spend some time as I got dressed, and come to find out he is fairly experienced film actor, and we talked a lot about making films, and he got to see my podunk little short I made that i don't show to hardly anyone. We discussed it (from his acting point of view and my directing point of view) as we made it down the many blocks to St. Louis Cathedral. The wedding was great, 2nd line parade to the reception was better and the reception was the best. It was like the brits (groomsmen and co.) were my long lost fraternity that I never joined, and we got along great, but as for my friend's sorority sisters, I was all thumbs and probably failed to impress, as much as I love the company of women, I can't read attraction to or from my own situation worth a shit, (unless its a cooter-slappingly obvious). We drank, danced, laughed, then moved on the Pat O'Brian's, met up with the same charming lady Angela, and chatted for a while, but could never find a good place to insert a compliment, or any sort of direct flattery, I'm such a wuss. It didn't help that her friend was around us the whole time. Oh well, 3 more nights alone in a hotel room, drunk, with my hands down my pants isn't much different than how my nights end at home.
The worst part is that a large void of meaningful interaction with friends was finally filled, the meaningful interaction I had been lacking since the end of my relationship. Now that everyone has returned their respective homes, it is horribly depressing. I tried calling everyone that I know could cheer me up, to no avail, and I had no choice but to talk to my ex whom I saw online. I mean, she was my best friend for 3 years, and now that we don't talk often (i basically wait for her to make the first move) as we used to, understandably (note: taking applications for following positions: female best friend, lover, girlfriend, or all of the above (the most dangerous combination)) Good thing it was chat so I could cry like a baby and totally play it off (first time I've done that since we broke up). But this weekend was just so great, tits like the first time high I may never achieve again
. I should just probably see a counselor, it could only help. Cause even though it is a passing thought, and I don't dwell on it,
The next day, it wasn't hard getting over the hangover (I never over did it, I stayed pretty levelheaded) I got beautified for the wedding, haircut, beard trim, picked up my suit from the cleaners and then made it to the rehearsal dinner. Shortly after the festivities died down, some of the brits were interested in a fast and loose disaster tour of the city, and who else would be a better tour guide than I (I've been all over it, and actually have given the tours to friends family and the like before). So off we went, and nothing but gaping jaws, and a million questions that were answered to the best of my ability/education. Needless to say, they were impressed and I think I gave them an accurate interpretation of the problems there. Most turned in early, whereas, I went on to meet some people from Atlanta I had met from the night before at Dragon's Den on my favorite side of town. We didn't stay there long, cause just as I arrived, the worst group of them all went on, and they decided to leave and get some eats. We had a good time, and some great food and I thought I may have been hitting it off with Angela, but it didn't seem to be reciprocated. I think maybe she keeps herself heavily guarded, but I have a phone number and would be willing to make that 6hr. drive to visit.
Sat. was the wedding, and after taking an early morning stroll to observe the mighty mississippi river in action, I went on and relaxed before getting dolled up. One of the brit guests and I were in the same hotel and he had thought the time was an hour earlier than it was, so he came down to spend some time as I got dressed, and come to find out he is fairly experienced film actor, and we talked a lot about making films, and he got to see my podunk little short I made that i don't show to hardly anyone. We discussed it (from his acting point of view and my directing point of view) as we made it down the many blocks to St. Louis Cathedral. The wedding was great, 2nd line parade to the reception was better and the reception was the best. It was like the brits (groomsmen and co.) were my long lost fraternity that I never joined, and we got along great, but as for my friend's sorority sisters, I was all thumbs and probably failed to impress, as much as I love the company of women, I can't read attraction to or from my own situation worth a shit, (unless its a cooter-slappingly obvious). We drank, danced, laughed, then moved on the Pat O'Brian's, met up with the same charming lady Angela, and chatted for a while, but could never find a good place to insert a compliment, or any sort of direct flattery, I'm such a wuss. It didn't help that her friend was around us the whole time. Oh well, 3 more nights alone in a hotel room, drunk, with my hands down my pants isn't much different than how my nights end at home.
The worst part is that a large void of meaningful interaction with friends was finally filled, the meaningful interaction I had been lacking since the end of my relationship. Now that everyone has returned their respective homes, it is horribly depressing. I tried calling everyone that I know could cheer me up, to no avail, and I had no choice but to talk to my ex whom I saw online. I mean, she was my best friend for 3 years, and now that we don't talk often (i basically wait for her to make the first move) as we used to, understandably (note: taking applications for following positions: female best friend, lover, girlfriend, or all of the above (the most dangerous combination)) Good thing it was chat so I could cry like a baby and totally play it off (first time I've done that since we broke up). But this weekend was just so great, tits like the first time high I may never achieve again
. I should just probably see a counselor, it could only help. Cause even though it is a passing thought, and I don't dwell on it,
Have a great week, I already know I probably won't, but it all can't be good times, cause if so, the good times wouldn't be as good.
I know how you feel about human interaction... I barely get it until I see my boyfriend on the weekend... and that isn't at all what it used to be these days...
Anyways, I'm glad you had SUCH a good time.... I'm kinda jealous of this Angela girl.. lol, jk.
Oh well, 3 more nights alone in a hotel room, drunk, with my hands down my pants isn't much different than how my nights end at home.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You're too funny... but right.