03/05/2012
The job interview last night was super stressful. I was underprepared, and super uncomfortable with that fact. My first interview this past Thursday was with the GM, and he was so ADD/all over the map with the conversation, that there just didn’t seem to be much of a point in psyching myself up for another interview with him. Unfortunately, he didn’t even sit it on my interview last night. He just fed me to the wolves by sitting me down with the head honcho investor. I would have handled it better if it had felt more like an interview. Instead, the guy just talked for 40 minutes straight, interlaced with awkwardly pointed questions and even more awkward silences while I tried to process them and answer them without sounding like an idiot. Fuck me.
So I went to the bar afterwards. I just wanted to forget how shitty I felt. Of course alcohol’s not really the answer to that, but since my husband is all sober, going home to him would have meant either a) talking about my feelings, or b) ignoring him and pissing him off. Neither really sounded like a good idea. I had the two margaritas that I planned on having and left the bar, only to sit in my car and have a mini meltdown in the parking lot. I called Matthew.
He didn’t answer, and luckily I had enough sense to hang up on his voicemail before I left some idiot message to make it clear that I had just drunk dialed him. Then I didn’t want to drive home. That was halfway because I didn’t want to miss a call back (spoiler alert – there was no call back – not exactly shocking, I know), and halfway because I didn’t want to face John. Ultimately, I ended up calling John anyway, because I realized as I parked at the next bar that I would not only need him to drive me home, but I would need him to know exactly where I had been, or he might create his own story of my untrustworthiness and make my life hell for a few weeks.
As it was, he still was suspicious of me, because he woke me up in the middle of the night to ask me why I changed the password on my phone. Yeeeeaaaah…I changed it cause of you, darling. Luckily drunk me is a somewhat convincing liar, because I told him I had just changed it since it was the same as the door passwords at work, and I told him that it was a cross pattern now. So I made the appearance of being totally okay with him knowing the new password, while being vague enough that I knew he wouldn’t be able to work it last night, giving me a chance to be sure he wouldn’t see any returned texts or voicemails from Matthew (I’ve taken the alerts off the lock screen of my phone, so you can’t even see who called or messaged without the password).
Ugh, what am I doing? Part of me still wants an affair with Matthew from the comfort of my marriage, which is just completely horrible for all parties involved. I just…when my self-esteem had dropped through the floor last night after that interview, Matthew is the only person I wanted to talk to. Sometimes I am *such* a shithead.