Moochie McMoocherson...

I apologize in advance for this draft of "The Great American Novel."

For those who aren't sure, I'm talking about myself.  In the last few months, I have begun to feel like the biggest mooch on the planet.  And just so we're clear, feeling like I'm taking advantage of pretty much everyone I know... is not high on my list of favorite feelings.  Actually, it's not on my list of favorite feelings.  It just feels shitty.

Where to begin?  Well, as much as I enjoy working at my current internship... after six months of work, no pay, and no prospects, I'm beginning to feel as though it's a waste of my time.  I mean, I'm flat broke.  No money.  Zip, zilch, nada.  I don't even have money to put gas in my car.  So it shouldn't be hard to imagine that I struggle with the idea of driving an hour in traffic both directions to go work at a place that doesn't pay me.  Twice a week.  Like I said, I love working where I work.  I love the guys in that office.  I love my boss.  I just can't really do it anymore.

*credit*

 I'm in a place that suggests I should be marching up and down the malls applying to any store that will have me.  But since that idea is less appealing than working for no money... I've been pushing my job search at full speed back in San Diego.  Which means I need money to survive.  Which means I'm mooching.  My parents have tried to comfort me by saying "we don't mind, we're investing in your future" but that doesn't really make me feel any better about taking their money.

Aside from taking my parents' money like a 25-year-old leech, I've been staying with Roommate at her gorgeous condo... where I have a bedroom.  Well, it's not my bedroom... but when I get a job (note the still hopeful, and confident wording) it will be my bedroom until I can save enough money to get my own place.  I've spent the better part of the last couple of months at her place.  And when her bills arrived the other day, she freaked out because they're higher than usual.  Because I've been here.  So now we're in a weird place where she's afraid to ask me for money I don't have, but she needs my help.  Thank god I have understanding parents, but she's still coming to a point of temporarily kicking me out.  I can feel it.  And I understand.  But it still makes me feel awful.  A feeling I've grown quite accustomed to these days.

As if all of the mooching wasn't enough to make me feel bad, there is always the ever present emotional rollercoaster that comes with every interview.  And the drop, when they "liked me a lot but went with another candidate" gets bigger every time.  Speaking of rollercoasters, I need a healthy scream fest.  But I digress...

As long as I'm on this emotional downward spiral, let's not forget about my social life.  Just to give you the short version (because I haven't mentioned it on here until now) I'm currently in a fight with Scooter Pie.  Well... not even a fight.  Because in a fight, you have to be communicating with each other.  Which he isn't.  Basically, Mr. Best Friend - Scooter Pie - and I had been, er... experimenting with other aspects of our relationship.  Remember when I said "what happens in Vegas, stays in vegas?" Well... that's what happened.  And we were pretty good for a while.  But then the subjects of labels and distance were putting a strain on us.  So we talked all the time, and I went down to San Diego every couple of weeks to be with him.  Never let it be said that I didn't try to make it work.  We even made it to "I love you."  Not that it took long.

And then I did something REALLY stupid.  Scooter Pie's resistance to label our relationship as anything other than "Friends Who Love Each Other" and "Together When We're In The Same City" lead me to believe that I'm free to do as I please when we're not in the same city.  And that stupid thing I did? (WARNING: TMI ALERT!)  I slept with someone else.  Someone I really shouldn't have slept with.  And it was horrible.  I felt dirty, and used, and guiltier than a kid with his hand in a cookie jar.  And when Scooter Pie asked me about it, point blank, I didn't lie.  I could have lied to spare his feelings, but I was raised that lying is bad, and I was in no mood to get caught later.  So after apologizing profusely, and getting lied to that he was unaffected by my actions... I left for Israel and came back to find that he's not speaking to me.  At all.

Now, I've been speaking with our mutual friends about my situation, and like the hopeless lunatic I'm beginning to feel like, they agree that I still have a shot at reconciling this relationship.  I have a ridiculous theory that because we're still friends on Facebook... he's not done with me either.  However, it's been over a month that he hasn't spoken to me, and... today... exactly two months since I've actually seen his face.  I'm hanging on to what little hope I have left. 

With everything else that's going on in my life, all the struggles and bad feelings... this kills me more than anything.  Under normal circumstances, Scooter Pie is who I would turn to when I feel as bad as I do.  Even if all I got was a big bear hug -- something he is extraordinary at delivering, I would feel better.  And I can't get him to talk to me.  And despite the fact that I have the greatest friends IN THE WORLD ('cause I do), I feel more alone than I've ever felt. 

Okay, so maybe that wasn't really the short version...

I'm in a hole, desperately trying to scratch and claw my way out.

Everybody keep your fingers crossed for me.  I need it.