After reading this, you may decide that I'm an asshole.

If you do, then you're in good company, because I agree with you.

I can tell you what happened, but I cannot tell you what I said to make it happen. This stupid discretion thing is such a pain.

So I can tell you that I made MixedSignalGirl cry last night, and that's about it. Even if I tell you that I was being completely honest, even if I tell you that we've always been brutally honest with each other, even if I tell you that I'm as bothered by what I had to say as she was, none of that matters because I can't tell you what I said. I can't tell you because, because...

Fuck! I can't even tell you why I can't tell you.

So feel free to let your imagination run away with you, if that's what you want to do. I made the girl who's probably the only person to love me in over a decade - maybe ever for all I know - cry. I deserve whatever ire your imagination can generate, because I knew before I said anything what the outcome was going to be, and I still said it.

SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL THOUGHT: This is completely unrelated, but I'm looking at the comic at davethepa's journal as I write this, and I really wish I could draw. I should work on that I think.

Anyway, there are two slightly mitigating factors. First, everything I said was the truth, even though it made zero sense, not even to me. Second, we've had a couple of talks since, and we're okay again. Until next time I suppose. Perhaps she'll learn to not ask questions of me unless she's sure that she wants to know the answer.

Not that I'm blaming her. Not at all. It's my stupid heart's fault. Again.

All of this drama took place at Buckhead's. I'd gone there to pass the time last night, rather than just sit around the house waiting for Nat to show up in my visitor list. Plus, I did need to talk to MixedSignalGirl. Plus they still have Upland Chocolate Stout on tap.

I called her from the Hooter's parking lot, and I made a quick run into that place to talk with my cousin Jeff for a few minutes, then I went across the street to Buckhead's.

As I said, I can't get into the conversation too much. Or at all.

To drink, I had a couple pints of Upland Chocolate Stout (262) and, after MixedSignalGirl had left in tears, I had a Weihenstephaner (311). Then I remembered to order some fried green tomatoes for VigilanteGirl.

I wrote recently that sometimes shit just happens. Well, shit is definitely happening. I wish I could explain it. I wish I could have explained it to MixedSignalGirl, and I wish I could explain it to my readers, and I wish I could explain it to myself.

But I can't, so I must be an asshole.

And that's right back where I started with this entry.