The progress of this evening is made only marginally better by the fact that Jenny feels he was being an asshole to me. I tend to at least give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he's oblivious. Still, the comfort found in the fact that my friends think I can do so much better is minimized by the fact that I'm not doing any better.

This only leads down fatalist roads, so I;m going to bed rather than indulging. Still, I wonder why it is that I seem to be so hard to love.