So I've been running into all kinds of people I haven't seen in years recently. I don't know how my dumb ass didn't see this coming moving back to New Mexico and all but it's been happening at an alarming rate.
My point is I ran into my ex girlfriend a few weeks ago at Zozobra. While this in itself would not be all that terrible, we left on somewhat good terms, I had failed to tell her I had moved back to New Mexico. The worst part is it's not even like I was too distracted and forgot, I didn't tell her on purpose because I thought it would fuck things up and I didn't really want to get back in that group of people again. However, all of that came crashing to the ground the moment I heard her call my name as I was standing in line for the Porto-Potty. Let me tell you that you've not truly lived until your stomach sinks to the depths of your being when you recognize the voice calling your name as the girl you ditched to move to another state with a group of high school buddies that want to try to make it in the music industry and you had no real reason to follow them other than the fact the you were bored out of your skull and wanted to leave so bad you could've killed someone.
And then the guy in front of me got out of the toilet.
I jumped in that Porto-Potty so fast I could have set the record for fastest escape from an akward situation at a major festival event ever recorded. Or at least of the week, in Santa Fe, for my males my age, under six feet and 150 lbs. I like to think that I could have set some kind of record. It's really the only way I can feel good about the whole situation.
The entire time I was in there pretending to piss, there was just no way I was going to be able to piss after that shock, I was praying to whatever god would let me pray to them that she would be gone when I got out. I guess my prayers fell of deaf god-ears cause there she was, all good looking and shit standing there doe-eyed and cute.
Let me just stray for a second to say something that needs to be said. I think, and I know that I'm not alone in this, that its is really fucked up that you chicks out there can get us to do pretty much whatever the hell you want just by giving us "The Look". Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean because it written on your faces every single damn time you do it. You also know that we have little to no power of resistance to it and that's why you do all the damn time. I mean fuck man it sucks.
So I get out of the toilet, if you could call it a toilet at this point, and she's just standing there looking at me and my heart sank as I realized just what this meant: I would have to fucking talk to her now. God fucking dammit. I hate these situations, when I'm in them. They're hilarious when I'm observing, I'm referring to the Meg incidents here, but when I have to deal with them I can't handle with the pressure.
After the most painfully akward five minutes of my entire life trying to explain myself, we made our way back to where I was standing for the show.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention one pretty important detail about this whole Crystal situation, I was tripping acid this whole fucking time! Points to Crystal for making the night just that much more exciting on top of the LSD and the Jack Daniel's.
After the show was over she told me she had to go and I believed her, I was pretty much believing anything at this point, so we parted ways and I told her I would call her. She made me swear under pain of death that I would call her that night so we could go somewhere and talk. I told her I would but I don't think she knew my current hallucinitory status so I put a reminder in my phone for later. That made for a wildly panic-inducing moment later that night.
I'm not going to go into what happened later for two reasons. One, I don't really remember. Two, out of respect for the people involved it would be better if I just kept my mouth shut. Just know that I did meet up with her that night and I ended up not going home.
One more thing, John McCain is a douchebag.