'Scuse me while I'm mortified

So, I think I've been "wedding crashed". Yup, that is the technical term. On Saturday I would have been posting a blog about how excited I was that I met a guy. Now, it's Tuesday and I'm feeling that excitement ebb away, replaced by cold hard being ignored. And, I feel like a moron. Gah.

Saturday evening, I played the flute at the wedding of a friend of a friend. I actually know the bride through 2 different people: Whitney & Katrina. Whitney, Phylis and I played for the wedding. Friday night, I went out w/ Whitney and several people involved w/ the wedding (bridesmaids, groomsmen, bride & groom, various attendees). Friday night, there were SO many cute, single guys there, I had a hard time focusing on which one I wanted to chat up more. I ended up talking equally to this guy "J" and his friend "R". "R" was not actually invited to the wedding, but does know the groom, a bit. "R" was very nice & all 3 of us had a good time talking, so I told him (as did "J", the actual invitee) he should come to the reception. So, he did.

Long story short...I went back to "R"s place after the reception w/ him, "J" and another friend "A". The plan was to play drinking games. Let me preface this w/ the knowledge that I'd already had about 6 beers, was beyond needing a drinking game to be drunkish and Saturday was night #3 of me drinking. Oh yeah, in fine form I was. Well, we arrive at the house and "J" promptly passes out in the living room & begins to snore. At that time, it's about 1:30 or so, so "A" goes to crash in the guest room (where the cat has puked & shat, in the past--apparently it smells great), and "R" & I go into his room. Now, up to that point, we'd been Flirty McFlirtersons w/ each other & we get into the room, pop a movie in & proceed to make out. Make out is pretty much all we do--I'd made it very clear to him early on that I wasn't going to sleep w/ him. I think I said that would be an activity for a later date. [***Note: after 3 days of drinking, I'm not quite the brightest crayon in the box. Bleagh.]

Sunday afternoon, "R" & "A" drop me off at my car, which is at Whitney's house. "R" tells me to send him a MySpace msg. Yeah, no exchange of phone #s, just the MySpace thing. So, I did. He's read it (actually, I've sent 2 & he's read both), BUT, no reply.

Yup, I've been wedding crashed. Dammit. It sucks, b/c he (up till this point) seems like a nice guy: accountant, intelligent, liberal (his page has a countdown till G-Dub's out of office), funny, etc. Grrr...But, apparently not.

PS: I'm going to post some other posts, but pre-date them (b/c I wrote them previous days) on here, so check after this post, obekabie. You might find some of it ironic. :-)