Last night Poke and I went out, and it was so fun. So so so fun! We hung out at home for a minute, then went up to Brewstir's on Sunbury to see D*Martin. It was fucking lame. I pretty much almost hate that Brewstir's, it's just not fun. I did run into this woman I knew a long time ago, someone I thought I would never ever see again, talked to her for a bit, and that was totally awesome. I couldn't believe I ran into her, it was kinda like fate, because I had just randomly thought about her the other day. Swell. So, I sang one song at Brewstir's and Poke didn't sing at all, and he had a beer, and we left. On the way to Triple 16, we were driving down 161 and it looked like this car was driving on the wrong side of the road. Right when we got up on it, we realised it was! Poke had to swerve over to avoid hitting it and the car went over into the grass (the other car, not his.) It was scary for about four minutes, the one minute leading up to the car and the 30 seconds while it was happening and the two and a half minutes afterwards. We got to Triple 16, and it was dead, of course, as it always is before midnight. Cat bought us a couple pitchers, we hung out and sang some songs, and it was wonderful. Cat is so happy that Poke and I are together, sometimes it seems like she's even happier than I am! It's cool though. I was in a kinda foul mood, because my day at work had been a big piece of crap, and because I took my medicine too early and it was already starting to wear off around eleven pm. It was so sweet though, Poke noticed that I was being quiet and kinda sad-ish, and he was like, "Aww is my baby in a funk?" and I almost cried because it was so great of him to notice. Singing silly songs and drinkin' some beers helped though, but I was still kinda funky. I ended up driving home because he had a few too many beers, and I drove his car, which was kinda strange. My car is all tight when turning and breaking and stuff, and his car is all loose, so it took a few miles to get used to it. Wasn't bad though.
The only strange thing that happened last night was that for some reason we got to talking about my marriage, and I ended up just shitting my nervous breakdown story all over him. I thought he knew most of the story, but apparently I was wrong, and he was a bit taken aback by the whole ordeal. Not because of me, really, but because of what I had to go through. It seemed like he really felt for me. What a wonderful guy.
I am a very happy girl. This is real happiness too, not lust happiness, or new-money happiness, it's real happiness. It's a good thing.
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