So I'm a Little High Strung

I like making fun of myself so here's a story I think is funny.
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I’m not really what one would call a “wallflower.” Unless of course wallflowers have taken to loudly expressing a torrent of emotions in public--and when I type “in public” I don’t mean on a stage in public, I just mean in public like at a public library--if wall flowers do that than I sit corrected.

One evening I totally lost my mind, I did eventually find it the next morning. It turns out my mind was right next my bed. I had left home without it that day. No one noticed at my temp job. I must admit I am always misplacing and loosing my mind. I think I’m so tightly wound it kind of just pops right out of my head and then I forget to pick it up and put it back in. Frequently, I wind up having to go back to the bar the next morning to retrieve it from the lost and found box under the bar.

OK so a couple of months ago I ran into a dude I once dated, Kyle. He was with a very cute girl. Granted I was also with a girl, but it was clear I wasn't fucking her, and I was having a humongous hair day. And by humongous I don't mean really good, I mean big like 1980s Jersey Big (that's double big, people). So my ego kind of felt like it had cliff dived into cement. See, ex types aren't allowed to do well after you. They need to be crumpled with regret in the corner of their kitchen. All the girls before you should be hotties. You want to be part of that club, but after you the club should be set ablaze. Soon after introductions and a little small talk the ex and cute gilr left to have hot sex in the bathroom of a swank bar. OK, they may not even have been on a date, but you know rational thought is hardly appropriate, and who are we kidding I’m sure they’re married now and as I type this are enjoying their honeymoon in Fiji. Nonetheless, they said "good-bye" and walk away. I don't know that they were out of ear shot when I loudly questioned my remaining friends and the rest of the venue, "Why do I always loose?!"
Obviously, it's a competition. Of what? I have no idea. All I know is that I lost. My buddy says to me, “I’m not going to tell you she’s not cute.” No shit Sherlock.

I continue to have melt down for a few more minutes and then hop on my bike to peddle to Brooklyn. Somehow I perform a set of jokes and people actually laughed. I get off stage and go right back to flipping out in the back of the room. In my defense I'd like to mention that it was a full moon or nearing one. And I’m sure I was premenstrual and having premature menopause and I was possibly pregnant, and let’s not forget the heroin, and all the mood elevators the doctors have me on. Between sips of vodka I tell this dude Kevin, who also knows Kyle, that he should tell Kyle that he has seen me with this really hot guy. Turns out the competition is who can get the hottest hook up. Now, also understand that Kevin is an inebriation enthusiast---so much so that Kevin can't remember what the word "memory" means. However, somehow his beer-soaked mind remembers my statement. So what does this degenerate do? The next day he friggin’ tells Kyle that I SAID to say that Kevin saw me with a hot guy. Not that I actually was with a hot guy. What kills me is I never thought Kevin would relay the original hot guy fake gossip. I didn’t think Kevin would remember having lived that day. I was just being nutty. So now not only does Kyle know that I lost, but now he knows that there was something to loose, so I wound up loosing twice!