Heading Home

I'm going home. Hurrah.

I got hit on so much down here in the SouthLand. I *never* get hit on at home. I didn't know what to do with it. I told one guy, "Ehh. You just have your beer goggles on. If you didn't you wouldn't be hitting on me." Which prompted an unusual response: a lecture from the drunk letch on how I shouldn't be so down on myself and I should have more self-respect.

That was surprising. It was like a drunk, male Oprah telling me to love myself, honey.

Don't feel like it. Especially when my pep talk was coming from a guy who talked to my breasts rather than my face.

::sigh::

Still, it was nice to be found attractive, even just a little bit.

Now, home, to rampant isolation and the call of NaNoWriMo.