Lately, I've been a paranoid drinker, a quality about myself I'm liking it less and less. I'm generally ok so long as I'm in the company of others, but as soon as I wander off on my own - face it, I've numerous reasons to end my evenings alone - I start second guessing everything. Did I make her uncomfortable? Did I cross a line with him? My god, did I really make that much of an arse of myself?

Rationally, I know that it's just residual insecurity surfacing like some Nautilus of the psyche, but it's hard to shake the unease it brings. It's ok to start blaming myself if not everyone had a perfect time, right?

That's the second time I've done that in a month.

Bleh. I even had to turn off Haunted on the way home because it was spooking me for the first time. I just didn't feel like walking up past Tufts alone and any more wigged out than I already was.

In reality, and this being our shared reality and not some delusional fantasy I've concocted, I had a great time this evening. Kudos to agoodshinkickin for organizing the outing, and especially for bringing a book to ensure that people would definitely show. Just in case I fail to do so next time I see you, I'd like to thank whoever contibuted to subsidizing the later part of my evening (likely uruz, whom I was very happy to see out tonight, but also everyone else as well.)

Feel better for writing, and now I need sleep. Rest easy, friends.