Thinking that it would be nice to invite my girlfriend to the gathering, I asked her to come-out. At the last minute I got free tickets to Peter Murphy for the night before the party. Knowing that she used to love Bauhaus I invited her and went. Most of Murphy's set would put a meth-head to sleep (but he still has a cool voice). Regardless, we had a nice time and then had a pleasant midnight breakfast.
The next night, she comes over as I am cutting up veggies for the party, and immediately starts complaining about not having mixers. A short walk to the white hen remedies this. After the folks arrived (the party was small on account of rain) the group talked and opened presents. My girlfriend seemed to be really enjoying the conversation. Brother got mostly silly stuff and Roommate got desperately needed golf-lessons.
Soon there after, my girlfriend started to urge us to go out to the bars. After about an hour we went. At the first bar she informs me that she has already had her fill of alcohol (between sips of a rum and coke) and that she wants to go back for the boot knocking part of the evening. I having set up this gathering and don't want to abandon the birthday boys (both wanted to beat me in pool, which is not hard) I no longer drink more than 3 beers in a night, but I have an amazing capacity to suck at pool regardless.
A few games into pool, my girlfriend decides to start talking and flirting with a Morisey-looking chump at the bar (with frequent looks over her shoulder to make sure that I know it). That was less than pleasant. However, the night wasn't all bad. I had a nice talk with my friend's wife, who then set up my terminally shy brother to talk with a blonde cutie.
I finished the night feeling like a discarded boy-toy, while my "girlfriend" tried to play my jealousy strings.
It was at that point that I realized that I did not really have any. Rather I was just pissed that she would pull this kind of crap after having such a nice night just the day before.
The tune that was playing in my head was moving on.
That tune gets pretty loud when you are sitting there listening to her hurl up her shoes, and then talk about how the guy thought she was so young.