Forgive me while I begin to rant like a madwoman.
Did I mention that Stealth Dater Boy decided to work on the “Little Shop of Horrors” play with me? Isn’t that just too freaking sweet? *gag*
You know what I really can’t stand about that guy? He never shuts up. Never! And he always has to be the smartest person in the room! Always! So pseudo-intellectual horse-poo is constantly falling from the guy’s lips. We were at a cast party after a performance and I just wanted to stick a fork in his hand, or his eye, or his…nevermind.
I’m normally not a violent person, so this should tell you something. I also fought the urge to clap my hands over my ears and scream “La-la-la! Can’t hear you! Can’t hear you!” But I resisted the urge, if only to avoid the crazy-lady-on-deck looks from the rest of the cast and crew. It’s gotten to the point that just hearing his voice is like raking nails down a freaking chalk board.
I can’t escape either because, get this, we work together. (Reminder: I never agreed to date this guy, so it’s so totally not my fault.)
Then! Then! I may have developed the teensiest of crushes on one of the actors (who shall remain nameless to protect my innocence). Could I hit on him? Flirt with him? Make googly eyes at him? NO! Because everywhere I turned, there was SDB, talking–loudly–spewing his aren’t-I-smart bullcrap! No escape, I tell you. No escape!
Shit. Here he comes to chat me up at my desk. Gotta run.
