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03-30-02 - 3:50 p.m. I have decided to be a Mature Young Adult and attempt to "talk things out" with Robert, who no longer wishes to be known as "Rob," which is why I have recently been calling him "Bobby." I'm so passive-aggressive. :) It's going to happen tonight. We're going to dinner, just the two of us, at a very nice restaurant where they overcharge and underfeed. He says he'll pay, but I know for a fact that I'll be picking up the tab because I have money and he does not. I did not tell him this over the phone. I did, however, tell him one rule which I will not break... "So is the Marine Room okay?" "Ewww...La Jolla." (note to gringos: It's prnounced "la HOY-uh") "What's wrong with going to La Jolla?" "All the snobs live there." "You're a snob." "But not a La Jolla snob. They're insufferable." "You're insufferable." "You're really workin' the ol' charm today, aren't you?" So we agreed on a time, or rather I said it was okay to meet at the time he had already reserved with the restaurant. "But just so you know, I'm not going to have sex with you tonight." He paused. "Okaaaaaaaaaay..." "Just, y'know, don't try anything. I won't do it." "Yeah." I think he was confused, but at least I felt good about saying it. And so, I prepare myself for a night of fancy eating and meaningful conversation. If I wasn't pregnant, I'd shoot up some heroin first. Man I miss that shit. I shouldn't be afraid to see Rob, but I am. I mean, it's Rob. It's the guy I've been best friends with since we were little kids. It's the guy I fell in love with�that's it right there. Anyway, wish me luck. I'm wearing my lucky tongue stud just in case. Platinum, baybee.
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