Climb Aboard the Crazy Train

Remember that Britney Song, pre-Federline and meltdown, "You Drive Me Crazy"?

(Ah, Britney. We miss you. Where is that sweet, virginal, mentally stable singer we used to know and love?)
  
Yes, well, it might as well be the soundtrack of my life. Only substitute the "You" with "I" because when it is my time of the month, and especially when it coincides with me meeting a really cute guy who seems interested in me, the Crazies are in full swing.

And that's where the danger happens. We all know, I am not exactly a suave seductress to begin with. But my monthly increase in estrogen just about kills romance in my life.

This is due to the fact that I get either highly snippity and irritable, or sulky and paranoid. It seems like poor Jackson (and poor me) have to negotiate around sulky and paranoid this month.

Mind you, it's not like Jackson even knows. I mean, we only have gone out once (it was rather magical), with hopes of perhaps ice cream or something tonight. So far, ho-hum normal. I know.

But it is not!!

Beeeecauuuussssse....he promised me to call me! And he didn't! And out of the other 3 weeks of the month, I would think this is fine because it's not like we are boyfriend and girlfriend, or even seeing each other. But instead, I am in hyper-sensitive, scan my cell phone's ID, check my gchat, stalk the man on facebook to see how many other girls he is flirting with, CRAZY mode.

I thought we had fun on Friday. Lunch was great - we talked as if we had been in touch for years. I mean, the man has read and likes Emile Zola for goodness sakes! Nobody I know has ever heard of Zola.

Between telling me, "I like it when a girl asks for real soda. None of that diet garbage," after noticing that I confidently asked for Pepsi with lemon, and Zola, I ask you, is it a little crazy to be picking out the bridesmaids colors? Okay. Maybe a little.

But it is not so crazy to be disheartened when he says, "Let's do this again. Call you this weekend," and then the whole weekend comes and goes and nothing. Not  a ring, not a text, not even a wall post.

I shouldn't care, but I do. I shouldn't feel rejected, but I can't help it. And I shouldn't be angry, but I am.

The one bright spot is that I can blame all this on the red wave, and hopefully by the time I am done on Sunday, Jackson will be a small blip of a penciled-in appointment on my day planner.

Now onto the true men who never disappoint me: Ben and Jerry, Cherry Garcia. Yum :)