So, good evening out tonight. I met up with Ben, Sarah, Eric, Andrea and Andrea’s friend for some Pho, which led to Sarah, Andrea, Eric and I going to grab some cake/cheesecake at a local dessert place afterwards.

Andrea and I spent most of the time trashing people we’d known in high school, one or two of whom Sarah and Eric also knew. Sarah was much amused by our rampant hatred and trashing of one person in particular, and was quite relieved to learn she wasn’t the only one who felt the same way.

So, the evening overall was great, but it did end on one pissy note that got me really upset. I’m kinda pissed at two people out of it, actually: one guy, UBFM, for, I’m certain, perpetuating the rumour, and the other guy for believing it. Now, this guy does tend to believe what he wants to believe, but it’s still irritating as all fuck that, even with years of my denials and so on, that he’d still believe it.

See, I’ve evolved to the point where I can, with some degrees of variety, admit to my mistakes, and especially to admit to my entertaining stories. Want to know about my sexual adventures? Ask me. I’m willing to tell almost anyone almost anything. But when people insist on repeating or believing stories that never happened, it makes me mad. Really, really mad.

Part of me is tempted to post the story here, for all to read and for me to once again refute, but at the same time, I just don’t want to give it any more importance. Suffice it to say, if it were to have happened, I’ll admit to it. There’s plenty of things I’ve done or tried that I’ll admit to, both positive or negative, whether they reflect well on me or not. But in this case? It never happened. I realize that I will never be able to convince this particular person of that, but in the end, that’s his failing, and not mine.

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