More like Sad Cocoa

Tim got to see me be partially psychotic over the loss of the Boston Red Sox today. He came by asking if I'd like to go to dinner, and I was standing in the middle of my living room clutching a cigarette, wearing my David Ortiz shirt, and looking a little pissy. I said no, but I might need that [GODDAMNED] hot cocoa you keep mentioning after this shitfest of a baseball game. So he came back, he Sox lost, and I went to watch an episode of the office with Tim. We didn't have cocoa, instead we had a $100 bottle of cabernet sauvignon and he proceeded to tell me he'd been married for 8 and half years, and his wife basically used him to establish a comfortable life style, shut down on him emotionally, and refused to treat him like another human being or have sex with him before reading some romance novel first [I ignored that part of the conversation]. And now he, of course, has self-confidence issues.

Excellent.

I love these types. Come to me, you sad SAD man. Just don't you dare try to marry me. And, really, don't expect me to make you feel THAT much better.