Its been a fucking hectic week. So much work, constantly in and out of the house, so many deadlines.

This weekend was supposed to make it all worth it though. Last night I modeled in the SIFE fashion show, had a blast. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy being on stage. The afterparty was kinda crap, but meh, I had my good time earlier in the night.

Tonight was supposed to be the big one though. After giving up on all the women I was interested in, essentially writing them off because I'd realized either they weren't interested in me or that they aren't the sort of girl I'm interested in after getting to know them a bit better, I bumped into an old co-worker from years ago at BreakOut West a few weeks back. Whitney is drop-dead gorgeous, so much so that when we worked together I was too nervous to talk to her most of the time... by the time I left, I'd gotten better with it, but god knows I didn't have half the balls required to make a move. But with 2 beers in me and feeling badass that night from how well the weekend was going, I asked her out, and we began making dinner plans.

Those plans were supposed to work out tonight. We've spoken a few times over the week, and she's told me more than once that she was excited and looking forward to it. I cooked up an amazing dinner plan, I was going to knock her socks off with a fantastic home-cooked dinner. We talked about movies and I found one that neither of us had seen that both of us wanted to, which just happened to seem like a decent date movie; to top it off, its a 'smart' movie as well, so I'd even get to know her on an intellectual level as well from watching the movie with her.

But when 5 came around, I couldn't get in touch with her. I'm certain that she didn't just stand me up, something had to have happened, so I'm not offended at all. Disappointed maybe, but not hurt or angry. Over the course of the last 5 hours or so I've left a message on her answering machine, sent a text, and finally sent a message via facebook (thinking that her cell might have died). I think its hands off now, anything more and I'd seem desperate. I guess she could still call me later tonight and we could end up doing it all after all, but it seems doubtful as evening has turned to night.

But when Jackie came home, the night got worse.

I'm in a bad mood because of how things have gone (or rather, haven't gone) tonight, and when she tries to hang out in my room and make conversation (with something that might qualify as pants-on-head retarded for anybody else, like "Wow, this makes 2 girls in a row that have stood you up. This must suck." way to cheer me up.) I get frustrated with her and tell her to leave me the fuck alone. I explain, admittedly not nicely, that I'm in a shitty mood and she shouldn't have to deal with it, so she'd be better off to just leave me the fuck alone.

Now she's pissed at me because I hurt her feelings or some shit. Really. I wasn't an asshole, I was just frustrated. I even apologized while kicking her out of my room for being such an asshole, reminding her that it wasn't her fault and that she doesn't deserve to deal with me in such a mood. But I guess, according to her, I could have been nicer about it. Well what the fuck. If I was in a state of mind where I could have sat down and hold her hands and explain to her what 'frustrated' means, I obviously wouldn't need any fucking space to calm the fuck down, would I?

I feel like my roommate, the mother of my son, is this emotional midget. Regardless of her age, I feel like she's sensitive like a 12 year old, and responsible like a 16 year old. I'm tired of picking up her mess. I'm tired of her acting like she's entitled to the use of things like my computer (don't get me started, I'm starting to find programs installed and music downloaded that I don't want on my computer). I'm tired of her taking a week to do the dishes she promised to do (that I've only left on principle, much willpower required as I hate my kitchen being a war zone) and then the day afterwards complaining that I haven't done the dishes yet because its my turn. I'm tired of her saying stupidly inappropriate or inconsiderate things and wondering why I'm embarrassed by her or frustrated with her. (and I've talked to her about it, so you can't brush it away with "maybe she doesn't realize what she's doing." I've talked to her about it, and it doesn't stop. She's just too oblivious to recognize the words coming out of her mouth).

I'm tired of living with her. I can't wait for this lease to be up.