Old Fling

Lord. Third day in Southern State, at a drunken 21st already. A friend of Top Chef (well mine too) is having his birthday. Currently en route to impromptu bowling jaunt with a bunch of half-drunk (some all-drunk) college students. Guess who is here. Science Guy, and the one, the only, The Runner. Double !!, a glass of WTF?, and a side order of a humorous are you kidding?. And yes he's been all over me. Asking me if I'm "still mad at him." From what, you ask? For walking out of his room and ceasing to talk to him. This occurred February of SOPHOMORE year, mind. Which later became the year of The Smoker. So suffice it to say, the Runner wasn't quite on my mind until I walked into tonight's shindig. And doubly suffice it to say, I had no answer. It would have only been more awkward had I not been tipsy. I really don't anticipate starting something with the Runner, it was just a weird blast from le past. But if I had to recycle an ex-fling, not quite sure it'd be the Runner. He'd be on the list I GUESS, but I really have no thoughts about him. Ah well. I'll hopefully have more to report after tonight's affair. If these drunken imbeciles ever get us to the bowling alley.

*2 seconds later*
Ok I came back. What if it was different this time? We did have a lot of fun together...

*4 Seconds later*
Stop! This is a mind-cycle that will become vicious if I ever put it into fruition. And we know I can put stuff into fruition, especially when I completely shouldn't.

*8 Seconds later*
OMG I'm reading soo much into this and it's only been a few hours. I need to chillax. Y'all pray for me.

*Like 30 min later*
I'm sitting shotgun in his car and he's writing down directions. He's left-handed. Aw.