You ever have one of those weeks when you don’t know if you’re coming or going?

All week, I’ve been in a foul mood. I even was irritating myself.

Monday - bad mood.
Tuesday - bad mood.
Wednesday - bad mood.
Thursday - eh, slightly better.

Between work and my personal life, it seemed like I couldn’t catch a break. It’s been one uphill road after another. I found out I’m being transferred to another manager … but I can’t tell anyone. Supposedly, it’s not going to be TOO awful, but I’m not too sure. I applied for another job internally, plus a few more externally. I’ve screwed up more than I care to admit — just stupid mistakes, the kind I make when I have a bad attitude and am bitter and pissed off — and having to admit to those mistakes just makes me grumpier.

On the personal front, over the weekend I invited Scott to have dinner with me and my younger brother this weekend. He “passed.” No reason, no explanation. Just “I’ll have to think about it,” followed a few days later by, “I’m going to pass.” WTF? It’s my 24-year-old brother for Christ’s sake. Scott and I had dinner on Tuesday, and it just was weird. I just have the feeling that it’s over. We were both distant, and while we made out for about 20 minutes after one kiss, that speaks more to our attraction to each other than anything else. I sent him a text message yesterday during the workday and he sent back a response about the weather. Yes, it was a lovely day — upper 70s and sunny — but still. I didn’t reply.

I did reply, however, to Ryan’s persistant e-mails/text messages — yesterday was about the fourth consecutive day he had been trying to get laid. Feeling pissy about Scott — and his desire NOT to have intercourse; WTF is that about? — and newly emboldened by my blondeish highlights, I invited Ryan over. He stopped by after going to the NBA game downtown; we exchanged witty text messages — I guess he was sending his while he was driving, not the safest way to go — and then nearly tore each other’s clothes off as soon as he was in the door.

I seriously expected a nasty note on my front door this morning from the neighbors. I wouldn’t have cared. It was worth it.

There was one weird moment … Ryan knows about Scott, in that I mentioned Scott and I had gone on a “few” dates. (Let me say that after six weeks of dating, the words “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” or “exclusive” or “commitment” have not been uttered by Scott nor myself.) So, Ryan and I are lying in my bed, spooning, if you will, and he says, “So. How are things going with that other guy?”

What. The. Fuck.

I paused, then simply said, “Ryan, don’t be creepy.”

He apologized and made a joke out of it. Ha. Ha. A man doesn’t bring up ANOTHER man when he is lying in bed naked with a woman unless he WANTS to know what is going on with the “other guy.” Even then, there are better times to ask.

At this point, I don’t know what to do, so I’m not going to do anything.

If Scott misses me, he can call. (Oh, he was pissy my p-t job is starting up again next week. Just ’cause he’s sitting around doing nothing doesn’t mean I’m going to as well.)

My parents and brother will be here tomorrow from Michigan, anyway. I’ll have better things to do than sit around and drink the wine Scott bought me, wondering when the lingerie/FM heels I ordered with his money will arrive (probably when my mom answers the door, or something). Seriously, why give a woman $$ to buy lingerie if you don’t want to have sex? That’s just weird.