soapboxdiner

The Rest of the Story

I've always been a fickle girl. Perhaps it was the constant moving we did growing up - 14 schools in 12 years - that taught me to form attachments quickly, but don't hold on to them too tightly. There will be new attachments to make next year and the baggage of missing your old friends won't help you none in making your new ones.

Perhaps it was my unease around the cool kids - Oh look! SBD is wearing the SAME green velour shirt for picture day this year that she wore LAST year - you know, the one her sister wore the year before! What a cow. Or my unease around the smart kids who unvariably were smarter than me and demonstrated such with their air of aloof entitlement.

Which brings into crystal clear focus for me the reasoning - if not the lack of graciousness - behind the 8th grade Honors teacher who made the announcement one day "This will be my last year teaching in the Honors program. I'm sick of all you primadonnas who don't think you have to put in any the work."

But I guess that's high school for you. I'm sure you had the same experiences, right? Maybe I was just too cool for school and didn't know it.

Whatever the cause or reasoning or bulleted line item of dysfunction any shrink worth a nickle could reference for explanation, I am still a fickle girl. I count it among one of my newly (re)won best qualities. Know why?

The years that followed that were filled with holding on to "bad boys who just needed a chance. I could change them."

We all know how that one ends, right? Right.

The years after that were made up of large blocks of Get the Fuck Away From Me.

But it seems that those two approaches have been tempered recently. I like the smart kids now - who are not either primadonnas, in my opinion. Sure, lots of times I still feel that "You're so much smarter than me" thing going on, but most of the time, I try to squash it. I'm smart in my own way, and I'm happy with that.

Bad boys, however, I really have no time for anymore. Sure they're still seductive in the same old way - exciting and mysterious and what all. BUT, if it don't make you feel good from the start... what's it going to make you feel like once the cellofane is off the package? You know, when it isn't new anymore?

Take Marcus, for example. Buys me wine but is too "busy" with his "friends" to make plans for an hour or two to have a glass with me. Acts all pissy like even my asking is a burden I should know better than to put on him.

Two days later, he emails me and says, "What?!?! You not talking to me now? What did I do lady?!? God you're so touchy.!"

So I told him, "I'm not touchy. I like you and you're sending me mixed messages. I'd like for us to be on the same page. If that interests you, call me this weekend."

That call never came, and I certainly didn't call or wait by the phone. You see, what we have here is the beginning of something loathesome to me. Fucking drama. We're in our 30s, people. We should have a better handle on our communication skills here by now.

Monday afternoon, I get another email, "You not talking to me anymore? Thanks a lot. I thought we were friends. I had a great weekend, thanks for asking. Hope you did too. Bye!!!"

At work, no less.

"I'm sorry, Marcus. You said you were going to call me. When it didn't happen, I figured that meant you didn't want to talk with me. So I left it alone."

And you know, the thing is, if he'd have never started this shit, I would have continued to think I was a freak he found unworthy. How twisted is that thinking? I should have remembered that I'm cool and obviously, I'm way too good for him.

And finally, after how many months, he called me Monday night, except I was on the other line. I said goodbye to my friend to catch his call, but he'd already been directed to voicemail. I called him and he says, "What, you're screening your calls now? blahblahblah Pity me cuz I'm pissed and pouting."

"No, I wasn't screening your call. I was on the other line. If I had screened the call, I would not have called you back. Period."

Then his phone died. Nothing has been resolved. Or more like, my curiosity regarding the thought process and patterns of such a loopy individual are unsatisfied - but my interest in being his friend or dating him or even finding him marginally attractive in that purely animalistic lust sense are completely gone.

If it don't feel good, don't wear it/date it/take it home, I say. Fucking freak. And he looked so normal, too. Who would have ever known.

5:55 am - 05.07.03
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