Day 93/360: Hung Out with Drew, Turbo, Jake

Discussed moral relativity with Nomad, coming to the conclusion that fucking an engaged girl leads her down the path to enlightenment.

Hung out with Drew and Turbo. Horse girled an older blonde lady until her friend dragged her away.

Saw a girl looking at whip cream. Opened with, “You know, the sugarless whip cream isn’t sticky.” She says, “I know, but I can’t find it!” I find out she’s preparing to meet up with her boyfriend, as indicated by the strawberries and twinkie bites in her cart. I find out they’ve been together for 8 months. She walks away.

I see a cute black girl with a guy, though I don’t think they’re together. She has a lot of chains on her neck, so I comment on it. She says it’s actually one chain. I ask if it’ll reach the end of the store, she laughs and says no. I ask if she’s into S & M. The guy laughs, she doesn’t know what that is. I say, “Bondage.” She still doesn’t know what that is. The guy uncomfortably takes a step away from her us. Drew and Turbo are done shopping so I leave as well. In retrospect I should have continued, the guy wouldn’t have been her boyfriend if he widened the gap between us when I was talking about sex.

I go to a concert with Jake.

I meet some friends through the social circle. I tell them I’m unemployed and living here for a year, on vacation, to learn about myself. Rather than condemn me, I am admired and told, “It’s like a sabbatical.” My insecurities about my identity were unjustified. I don’t game the girls much, other than sharing my identity, because they are part of the social circle and I don’t know what my boundaries should be.

Concert’s over.

I walk past a few people coming from the concert, shout the band’s name and give them high fives. I feel social and spiritually connected with everyone.

I see a circle of girls eyeing me as I walk past them like a pussy. I walk back, put my arms around two, and ask if they are the band’s fan club. They say yes. I ask who the leader is, they point to an Asian chick. I accuse her of definitely going backstage and snorting coke off a stripper’s back. I run out of things to say, fear the social awkwardness, and tell them, “Alright, see you next week!” and leave. In retrospect, I wasn’t fully trying to figure the girls. If I were, I would have found out what made the Asian chick the leader, where they were having the pillow fight after, et cetera. Instead I pussied out. Oh well.

I go home and chat with Dylan about my newfound confidence in my imperfect identity.

I watch Fight Club.