The best part about leaving the love letter is that I'm going back to the very same bar tonight. This is for several reasons, one, I'm a glutton for punishment. Two, I secretly (or not so) hoping that Drk will be flattered by the gibberish/my heart on the back of bar bill. He should just love me simply for the sheer fact that it would be a great story to tell our children, grandchildren, send in to Reader's Digest etc. But alas, like Harley said, "Fuck Drk" and to that I say, "I've been trying-hard!" There are probably more reasons but those I'm not going to go into because I think I probably should be lying on a psychiatrist's couch right about now.

PS. Apparently, I got really friendly with one of the guys that came back to hang out with Cr and I. I slipped away to go to bed...and mope and pass out, because I'm not lying- I consumed more alcohol than I think is humanly possible. The next thing I know, I wake up and Cr told me that one of the gents came up to my bedroom and made out with me and according to her, I was responding in a favorable way (she walked in). I hope it was fun for him because I'm sure I was a zombie! I should feel violated but since it didn't go any further I don't really care...and it was a compensation kiss...no kisses from drk, but plenty from some sleezy guy. It's not fair.