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I had convinced myself that maybe Della was right. Maybe I did spend way too much time alone. Maybe I was avoiding the intimate needs I craved just to escape the fear of being hurt.

Was it wrong to find more comfort curling up with a good book on a Friday night than going out to get shit-faced? Was it wrong to not put myself through the pain relationships caused?

Because that was my experience. No one ever stayed, no man had ever really given me butterflies or made my toes curl.

All I ever found was one let down after another. Why should I put myself through that?

I wasn't this person; the girl sitting in a slinky black dress that showed too much cleavage and flaunting my assets like some cheap perfume commercial. Della had dolled up my face and thrown me into one of her fuck me dresses with pumps that made my calves hurt and the arches of my feet cramp.

This is fucking stupid.

He's not coming.

I had been waiting for over an hour for this guy, and so far, he was a no show. How much longer was I supposed to sit and wait?

He's definitely not coming.

It's been long enough, I'm out.

Grabbing my phone, I shot Della a quick text.'Your pick is a no-show, I'm leaving.'

Dropping my phone into my purse, I chugged the rest of my drink, pulling the clutch up my arm, and onto my shoulder. Throwing down some money, I thanked the bartender with a smile and nod.

My phone buzzed against my hip, and I knew instantly it was Della. She had probably been holding her phone by her side all night just waiting for some sort of update about how it was going and what I thought.

Digging it out, I read her message.'I'm texting Simon now, don't leave yet.'

Rolling my eyes to myself, I huffed under my breath.

Seriously? Ten, even twenty minutes is one thing; an hour, there's no excuse for that.

Tapping the buttons, I told her he obviously didn't want to do this, and I wasn't going to sit around and wait for him any longer.

'This was a bad idea. I'm going home, I'll call you tomorrow.'

The whole blind date thing just wasn't for me. I gave it a try, it didn't work out, there had to be some credit thrown my way for that. I knew she would end up giving me the third degree tomorrow for not sticking it out and giving him a chance.

I just didn't care.

I loved my best friend, and I knew her intentions were good. She had a boyfriend, she had a life outside her home and work. Della was happy. That's all she wanted for me. She just had a hard time seeing that we weren't the same person, and I was completely fine with the life I lived.

I didn't need a man to be complete or whole, or to pamper me with compliments so I felt good. I liked who I was. I enjoyed being home, I enjoyed wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and sitting down to eat an entire container of ice cream, without worrying about what my thighs might look like after.

I don't need to do this.

Facing the crowd, the music blared overhead, pounding and thumping with so much bass, I could feel my ribs vibrate. Attempting to work my way through the mass of people, I was elbowed and shoved, ping ponged between strangers. It was impossible for me to get to the front door.

Alright, I need a different way out.

Turning around, I walked past the bathrooms, scanning above my head for another exit. The tight hallway was filled with couples, all of them kissing and groping each other in the darkness.

Get a fucking room, jeez.

Spotting two people against the wall that looked like they were about to get it on, I turned around quickly, and slammed into the wall.

“Ahh, shit.” Huffing under my breath, I ran my fingers through my hair and took a step back.

Wow, I am buzzed.