We were standing in the hallway outside my apartment. I turned to lock the door and then turned back to see her crying. We had been dating for between one and five months based on how scared of commitment we were feeling when asked. It was her birthday. I had created a shoebox full of presents. She was crying tears of joy.

I tell you this not solely to brag, but to point out that I was not expecting that reaction – to point out that her tears filled me not only with pride but also fear because I was scared that she might ask why I got her those things and I would have to admit that inside jokes were not just touching but also cheap and this birthday present only cost $5. That was why I had made her a birthday present.

Romance doesn’t come easy to me, it comes accidentally to me. In most relationships I avoid romantic urges because I find them to be a cheap substitute for real connections and because I don’t want the girl to think I’m too into her, but that’s impossible. I always seem desperate because I think desperation is sexy and I do want to look sexy.

My assumption that others think at all like me is a stupid assumption, but I will continue to do it because I don’t want to have to worry about other thought processes besides my own.

This entry sucks. I’m bored. I hate my writing.

The point is sometimes I try to make myself despicable and I fail. I don’t like failing – instead I quit.

I quit.