My mom's friend, the one I mentioned last entry, wound up canceling. She's supposed to come over sometime next week instead. I suppose it is all for the best. I'm hoping the extra time will help me regain at least an ounce of composure. The last thing I want is to appear lonely and needy, especially in her presence. Ideally, I would have wanted to be in a solid committed relationship where I'm just oozing the joy of being in love before I run into their family again. I'm thinking that success is indeed the best revenge, at least in my mind it is. But I guess that just isn't meant to be.

I guess I could just say I'm "between dates". That is not necessarily a lie, I mean I'm putting myself out there, I've been on a few dates since her and though it has been a ridiculously long time interval since my last date, I'm always looking out for the next possibility to pop into my horizon. One really strange thing has happened since I've put up this diary. Females are starting to swoon over me or at least the guy they perceive to be me in this diary. When I started this thing I was nobody's favorite. Everything I said in here was basically vented out into the vacuum of the internet. Although there was a potential for an audience I really did not have an audience that I felt any need to cater to. Then, I started doing the review thing which it seems was both a blessing and a curse because it changed my "voice" and in some ways forced me think differently and it left me ever-conscious of my design and my writing.

I think the biggest question on most females (and possibly some males) minds is why? Why is this guy, the same sensitive, wonderfully expressive and emotional guy I have read about in his diary still alone? I could only come up with one answer to this. I am not derrick's diary. Maybe part of me is, I mean I may still be emotional and sensitive but if there is one thing I am truly not it is this, I am not an expressive person. Sure there have been moments in my life where I may have been wonderfully expressive, like when I'm in love, or when I'm drunk or high, bit the rest of the 99.99% of my life I am STILL the shy, quiet, repressed and vulnerable individual that I have been since my earliest childhood memories.

The exception is of course my diary. Here I talk like I want to talk, I feel what I want to feel and I do whatever the hell I want to do. Here there is no reason for me to hold back. You don't fucking know me, you don't know the real me, so I have the fucking license to re-invent the person that I am through this diary. It it just a fa�ade? Perhaps it is... In the same way the fictional character "Jack" of Fight Club had come up with his "Tyler" persona, I have done something similar with my own diary. But just like the story, Tyler wasn't real except in the mind of the narrator. Of course his delusion was so real in his mind that he had everyone around him convinced and hanging on his every word that it might as well have been real. I think this is what happened with this diary.

I allow myself to cut loose, go crazy, not hold back, but only within the confines of this diary. None of the attention I get from the females here in diaryland ever gets translated into "real life". I wish I were the cute, confident, bold and expressive guy in my diary. I am not. Well OK maybe I'm a little cute, but I'm none of those other things. So you are a female, so maybe you like me. I mean do you really like me or do you like the idea of me? What if I could snap my fingers and produce a plane ticket? What if I could make it possible for us to meet? Would you fuck me the way I want to be fucked? Would you let me fuck you the way I want to fuck you? Or are you just using me to entertain some fantasy in your mind, never wanting or willing to to bring that fantasy into fruition? Call me a pessimist, but I really think it is the latter. Hey, maybe I'm wrong, it wouldn't be the first time. But somehow this strangely feel right, it follows the ever-repeating pattern that life has shown me, that life fucking sucks and there are no signs of it changing. And stop swooning over me, I don't fucking deserve it...