After a particularly looooooong executive board meeting with my fellow Young Dems last night, there was a rather unofficial announcement from our Membership Chair. She’s having a party this weekend, along with her sister, the Finance Chair, and she’d love it if all the officers could come.

“Except you, Shelby. You can’t come. Sorry.”

This happens a lot when it comes to a few of my friends, because I guess my ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-girlfriend still can’t pull the stick out of her ass. She gets to go to the party. Therefore, I can’t. Simple, no?

I can understand, perhaps, in the case of the two other YD officers; it’s likely I would have met them through another mutual friend, but as it happened I met them through the ex6. Naturally they’re her friends before mine, though I certainly wouldn’t be a YD officer without their insistence. It’s ten times more frustrating that I even have to tiptoe around the crazy ex6 with our mutual friend that introduced us in the first place; it still gets CX6’s panties way up her crack that said friend still even speaks to me, even though she was my friend well before I ever dated CX6.

Just in case you’re wondering, no, this relationship didn’t end because I shagged her sister or anything; it just wasn’t quite there for me, and I said so before wasting any more of her time. This was almost two years ago. Well over twice as long as we dated in the first place.

Say it with me, people:
super
GAY



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