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So I'm sitting on my couch, watching tonight's episode of Las Vegas.

A normal Monday night, but not a normal show. I haven't finished watching yet, but I half expect it to turn out to be a dream episode or something.

Anyway, Ed has these Cuban cigars that they found on the floor after a fight, and he takes them out of this little case. Inside the case is a piece of paper. On the paper is written:

022065

The day I was born.

I have no idea what this might mean, but I think it's pretty cool.

Something's been bothering me lately.

No, I mean something besides that. Okay, maybe it's related to that.

Ask any woman that's been with me - I'm a pretty good person. I mean I am now, and I have been for the past fourteen years or so. I treat women with respect and affection, just the way I'm supposed to, but not because I'm supposed to. I do it because it's the way I want to be treated myself.

I'd bet, right now, that I could call up anyone I've dated since my divorce and have a nice friendly conversation. Nobody would just hang up upon hearing my voice. Nobody would cuss me out. Nobody would cry.

There's no trail of broken hearts behind me. There's no We Hate Dave club that all of my old girlfriends belong to and have meetings where they sit around making fun of my genitals. There's no www.daveisanasshole.org website devoted to bashing me around and warning women about me and my issues.

Even the most painful breakups, such as the most recent one, even that was all let's be friends and call me if you ever want to talk and you never know, maybe someday we'll try again.

I'm a pretty nice guy, as far as ex-boyfriends go.

Maybe too nice.

What I'm wondering right now is, if I'd made breaking up with me more difficult, would any of those relationships have lasted?

I don't know the answer.

I think about her, so stubborn. So determined to have another chance with me, then she just walked away. That old let's not ruin our friendship excuse turned out to be the most honest thought she'd ever had about me. And, because I felt the same way, I let her go.

I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't made it so easy for her to leave that night. I wonder what would have happened if I'd been a real dick about it? Should I have been less of a friend, and that way there'd have been less of a friendship to ruin?

Maybe I take the words boyfriend and girlfriend too literally. These girls are all still my friends, but they're no longer anything beyond that. Maybe I should stop letting friendship trump everything else. Maybe that's why I'm sitting here alone.

If you're just going to tell me that I'm right, I already know that.

If you're going to claim that I'm wrong, then you are an idiot and I don't care what you think.

I'm sort of kicking myself a little today.

Someone asked me when my flight out of Louisville was on Friday morning, and I had no idea, so I checked.

It's at 6:30. In the morning.

I don't know why I keep scheduling my Las Vegas flights for so damn early. I get to Las Vegas at 10:30 and I know that I'm not going to get a room until at least 2:00 in the afternoon. It would make much more sense to arrive in the afternoon so I wouldn't have to sit around with my thumb up my ass for hours.

Plus, if I left Louisville at a reasonable hour, I could even go out to Rich O's Thursday night.

I remembered all this in May, when I last went to Vegas. But this time I forgot, and in my excitement I booked the earliest flights possible.

The latest theories about the Moon's origins say that it was torn from the Earth long ago. If that's true, then the Moon must feel as I do. Forever orbiting. Forever contemplating what it has lost. Never able to look away. Never able to touch.

Does the Moon remember the pain of being ripped away?

If the Moon could somehow break free of the Earth's pull, it would truly become lost. Its own inertia would carry it forever, dark and silent, through the vastness of space.

I wonder, would the Earth look up, and wonder where the Moon had gone? Would it wonder why the Moon had left? Would the Earth even notice?

I actually had a pretty decent night. There was no surprisaphobia for the first time in quite a while. It would have been the perfect time for a surprise, but it didn't happen. So yay!

Let's see, I stopped and saw VigilanteGirl first. She's stopped being grouchy long enough to remind me to pick her up a shirt from "anywhere in Las Vegas" while I'm there. The girl is simply beyond cute. My intentions toward her are not entirely honorable, so buying her Hard Rock shirts and shit helps ease my guilt a little.

When I walked into Rich O's, SpikeBoy was sitting out in the loser area with some girl. I didn't recognize him with a girl.

Compared to Friday night, the place was dead. This Russian dude with a fucked up website was playing in the front area, with a half-dozen or so people listening.

Walking into Rich O's proper, I immediately saw HatGirl. Without the hat again. My peripheral vision seemed to detect that there were several cute girls scattered around, but, of course, none of them mattered, not with HatGirl in the room.

So I sat on the loveseat and ordered a Spezial (900) and talked with HatGirl and LuckyFucker for pretty much the entire night. After a while DooRagGirl came in. She also failed to distract me.

LuckyFucker was asking me for advice on what beers to try. I think that so far he's liked my recommendations, except maybe the Rogue Imperial Stout - that one may have been a bit too much for someone that's only been to Rich O's like three times.

My second beer was another Spezial (920). When this beer goes on tap I usually drink a lot of it, but after a week or two it gets a little boring.

My third beer was a Guinness (974) and then I switched to Diet Coke.

Oh yeah, I was asking DooRagGirl if she knows GlassesGirl, since they both know my sister Neisha from school. DooRagGirl wasn't sure if she knew her or not. Right after I asked, GlassesGirl walked in. She seems to be dating MusicalHippyDude.

By the end of the night, I'd started feeling a little bad that I chose LuckyFucker as a nickname for HatGirl's boyfriend. He's a nice guy. He actually reminds me of my sister's ex-husband, who used to be one of my best friends. But, he is a lucky fucker so the nickname will stay.

Anyway, once HatGirl and her boyfriend left I sat for a bit with DooRagGirl, just to foster the illusion that I hadn't stayed for as long as I did for the obvious reason, then I went to White Castle and came home.