Damn the License Plates

So, I was waiting all month for this monthly lesbian/queer event at a local bar.

Not as a pickup thing, just to be amongst friendlies.

I'm pulling up my Buick and I see the familiar license plate... the coffee color.

Fuck.

I knew I would be THAT girl. Just didn't think it would happen so soon. You know, the one who hates the fact that her ex is probably going to infiltrate her social scene for a bit. I'm still not even used to the word "ex." Bullocks.

All told, I had a pleasant conversation and three beers. But I still wish I lived in a city where I'm a number, not a name.