How can a girl resist that?! So of course, I call and tell him in my crying voice: "You don't have to worry." He then says he's willing to come over to make me feel better. I assure him that it's not necessary. So he says, "Do you want to talk about it?" Of course I feign not wanting to talk about it before launching into a 45 minute rant about everything that's wrong with my life. Okay, I admit it. I'm a fucking girl. Whatever.

AHAHAHA. You're not a girl, you're a princess. And I can say that (er, I hope) because I'm one too. This is why I don't get drunk when my boy and I are apart. I came to this conclusion after several incidents exactly like this one.