Desperate Sarah 4 Eva

I'm Desperate Sarah. I'm not Single Sarah, Lonely Sarah, or Shitfaced Sarah (although sometimes it's looking that way.) Stories like the following explain why I'm Desperate Sarah.

Christopher: (answering door) You're popping in. I'm not a fan of the pop in.
Sarah: I didn't pop! I called you 2 days ago and again on my way over here! Here, let me reenact my message: 'Hey Christopher, it's Sarah. I hope your phone isn't broken...'
Christopher: It is.
Sarah: '...Anyways I just wanted to let you know I'm going to happy hour on Friday and I'm going to be having some drinks. I should be done a little after 8 and I thought I could come over. Give me a call if this is a problem for you.'
Christopher: Well I didn't check my messages.
Sarah: That's your fault. I didn't pop.

Then my phone rings. Off the effing hook. The 30 minutes I was there my phone rang no less than 6 times. He was trying to check his messages on my phone and it rang. I was looking incredibly popular, but I was also on the phone the entire time I was there. He told me when I first got there that he was going out with the guys, but I could hang until he had to leave. When I got off the last call, he began Turning off lamps and walking to the door. I thought it was time to leave and I had my things. At the door, he stops and said he was sorry we couldn't hang longer, but he was going out. I realized he wasn't walking out the door with me, he was just getting rid of me.

Sarah: Wait, you're not walking out with me?
Christopher: No, I'm leaving in like 20.
Sarah: I could wait with you.
Christopher: No, I'm going to walk.
Sarah: I could drive you.
Christopher: No, I'll call you tomorrow night when I'm done.
Sarah: (really obnoxiously) Really? You're gonna call?
Christopher: Yeah.
Sarah: (still being obnoxious) What's my number?
Christopher: It's in my phone.
Sarah: Your phone is broken, Genius, how are you going to call me when you don't have my number?
Christopher: Here, write it down, I'll call you from Maddy's phone when we're done.
Sarah: (Totally not believing him) Okay.

The whole night didn't go well. There was a whole other portion of me asking if I could spend the night Saturday night because I was going out in the area and didn't want to drive home because I was clearly going to be intoxicated. He said he was going out with the guys again and would probably be out late. When I said I was probably going to be out equally as late, he responded that he didn't know what his plans were on Sunday. He was being a dick, which explains why I reacted when I did when he ushered me out the door.

I walk down the stairs of his building and I'm pissed. I'm so pissed. That did not go how I thought it would. I get to the bottom of the stairs and I angrily chuck my beer can into the bushes. I walk a few steps further and see and woman walking her dog in the same area and I almost hit her chihuahua with my half-full beer can.

I apologize profusely. Not only did I litter, but I almost assaulted her dog. I tell her I'll get it and ask her where it went. She pointed to the bushes and I crawl in them.

Woman: What was it?
Sarah: (Standing up in bushes) Anger. I don't know where it went. Is your dog okay?

Then she took a step back and realized that I was having boy problems. It was Friday night, I was dressed up, and I was tipping over from my happy hour buzz. I was looking pretty pathetic drunk and standing in some bushes. I knew it. I think she knew it too.

Woman: You know what? Forget about it. I've been there too.
Sarah: Are you sure?
Woman: Yeah. I know what it's like.
Sarah: I didn't mean to scare your dog. (The dog has been shaking and standing behind his mommy since I almost nailed it with my beer.)
Woman: It's okay. Hope your night gets better.

The next time I get all dreamy over Christopher, will someone please remind me of this moment and then immediately punch me in the left breast? Thanks in advance.