Mixed Messages

Last week I went to Felicia's Atomic Lounge, a semi-divey Ithaca bar that happens to have a high concentration of lesbian patrons and really good hip-hop. After three requisite "loosen-me-up!" vodkas, I met this girl and we had a great conversation. 

Ten minutes into it, she confessed she was only talking to me because her ex-girlfriend "thought it would be super funny."

Serious buzzkill. I spent the last six days thinking (only 46% in jest), "I'm one of those chicks that bitchy girls send their exes over to because they think it'll be funny!" -- but then I went to Felicia's last night, and saw that same girl, and waved to her, and she slammed into a pole while waving back, and now I feel better.

Hel-loooo, validation.