10:16 p.m. - 06.12.2003
Paris makes his return.
I got an e-mail from Paris. Telling me about how he lost my number, and to call him if I'm still interested ... in him.
Okay. Before I was all self-righteous, and all I'm-not-going-to-call-him-again.
And I was doing good! I had completely forgotten about him. Even went on a date with someone else.
So I call him.
He's so open now. And I'm so convinced that this is just a not-so-clever plan to get me in bed ... again.
He wants to come pick me up, from my house, after I get home from work tomorrow night. So, I say okay.
Me: Should I call you when I get home from work then?
Paris: Call me whenever you feel like it.
Me: Uh... okay. So I'll call you from work then?
Paris: Yes. Call me when you're at work. Call me when you wake up in the morning. Call me if you get up in the middle of the night and have to pee.
What. The. Fuck?!
I swear, I will never understand guys. Ever.
