Might actually be my mantra.

I was supposed to go out to the bar with the Wrangler last night, but he called in tired and bailed on me to stay home and sleep. So this afternoon I got bitchy with the Wrangler on the phone–accused him of stalling to see if his new girlfriend, the Roller Girl, was going to hang out with him before he agreed to plans with me. He apologized, asked if I still wanted to go to the bar with him tonight. I said okay.

Then the Squirrel called and said that he and Bad Idea are hanging out at the Squirrel’s tonight, and that I should come over and bring the Wrangler. I said okay.

The Wrangler likes to go to the bar even when all of his friends are hanging out together somewhere else (e.g., the Squirrel’s, or here in the bumper pool basement). So when the Wrangler called back later, he was less than thrilled when I told him we should go drink at the Squirrel’s. My argument: it’s much cheaper than drinking in the bar, and that’s where our friends will be. His argument: he thought we’d be hanging out “alone” (at the bar, where he can get hours of free therapy from me about Roller Girl), and–wait for it–the kicker: “so I have to hang out with you all while you hit on one of them?”

Wrangler. Seriously. Remember, about four months ago, when we broke up? And remember how, for three years before that, we had an open relationship? And remember how you came to my wedding last week?

And anyway, I’m not hitting on one of them. I’m hitting on both of them.


Anyway. I’m a big ol’ hypocrite, and I won, apparently, because the Wrangler and I are heading over to the Squirrel’s, and then maybe to the bar. You know, if Bad Idea goes out later.

I suck. You should be glad I’m not your ex.