I'm in what might be called a Pickle!
Okay, so it's kind of an issue, and I don't want to be all dramatic about it, but I think it's kind of bad, and man, I sure don't know what to do, I really durn tootin don't! How does this happen? Okay, so here it is:

As we know, I have broken up with My Love, and now I'm single and ready to mingle (in the eyes of the world), and somehow I seem to have deduced yet another of my brother's friends. Oh, well I mean seduced. But I'll give you this one, iPhone. This is a problem, because it's the fourth one this year (I KNOW), and I think we're going to start running out here, because Xander doesn't have that many friends around here to begin with.
(Did I say that? I didn't say that.)
I don't know, man! I didn't do anything! I just went to a few parties, drank a few shots, maaaaybe got a little flirtatious in my texts, but that's not too bad, so you know, basically I was just my normal charming self. And what happens? This. This happens. I would express my disappointed surprise, but I really have none to express. (Surprise, that is. Disappointment, I have plenty)
Okay. But we haven't gotten to the Thick of it yet.
Just wait.
So, I decided to have some casual doings with my latest admirer. Why not? He's smart and handsome and fairly nice, and we both had Xander's express permission. Or at least, so I thought. Lo and behold, Xander begins to fall into a depression, worried that I'm taking his friends away from him. I quote (second-hand from Mom, but still): "Eventually, they'll all realize that she's more interesting than me and abandon me."
What.
No.
Child.
I sympathize. I really do. I, too, have the constant fear that my friends actually hate me and think I'm weird and annoying and ridiculous and would like to be rid of me as soon as possible (is that not normal?) and I understand where he's coming from. I do. But, from a purely objective perspective (how's that for a band name), let me just humbly say,
What to heck.
There's no way his friends would abandon him for me. No way in, well, heck. Sure, I'm fun sometimes (I think), but so is he. We're different, that's all. I'm air; he's fire, I'm gelato; he's a spice cake, I'm the embodiment of anxiety; he's suffering and existential angst in a human form.
You feel?

So, I don't know what to do. I already turned down an invitation to hand out with Dat Boi and his friend (both of whom really wanted me to hang out tonight) because I felt guilty that they didn't ask Xander first. Granted, I would have said no anyway, because my throat hurts, and I'm dying of pestilence and despair, but that's beside the point! I can't keep on giving excuses forever. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to face the music. Or rather, the musician. And we all know which is the worse of the two.