Things I dislike:
1. Men who work in the vicinity of X ZIP Code and/or in my industry. Or both.
2. Who are Leos
3. Born in the ’60s
4. And who look like the asshole who stole all of mom’s stuff and dropped her on my doorstep seven years ago in a state of hysterics.
Things I dislike more:
1. When they like me
Don’t get me wrong. A girl likes attention and all. But … when your skin is designed to retract when faced with the four things that ruin me on their own, let alone in perfect formation … well, yeah. No.
I remember when ol’ Topo Gigio told me he’d rather wait around for the next 11 years for some married whorebag than to actually spend time being present and having fun with me.
(He’s lurking around her neighborhood now, hoping to see her for five minutes — all flash, dash and no cash, renting expensive cars and pretending he’s a hot shot. It would be laughable if I didn’t know he hasn’t eaten a good meal in months and refuses to let a gorgeous Gemini female friend pay for dinner.)
Anyway, I remember how he always had imaginary plans/got sick/just said no at every suggestion of “hey want to go have a beer later.” (But when I would follow up on outings/health/killing ants on my birthday night, he had no recollection of telling the lie.)
But then he would send me nice gifts in the mail or buy me dinner whenever HE wanted to hang. And then would go radio-silent at just the thought of indulging anything I wanted to do.
And I find myself in the same situation. Not able to commit to five minutes in a public place. Only responding when stalked, basically.
I guess stalked is the wrong word but I’m not one to show my face when I don’t want to. So, you come up with a better word and I will use it.
The thing is, we all need friends. That was always Mom’s thing with Topo Gigio. He’s a lonely soul, with lots of demons you can tell, no matter how much he tries to hide them. So be kind.
(She may have just been speaking of herself. Or maybe that’s why she identified with him so much.)
I dunno. Now that the cold shoulder (and every other body part. Jesus) has been shown to me so distinctively, I have the routine down pat to pay it forward.
Of course, I always did.
I hate it that I have to pass it off as “gee I don’t know what’s wrong with me that I can’t get close to anybody.” I can. In the right situation. Maybe.
I just don’t get the “wearing me down” bit here, though. Familiarity breeds contempt in my world, not affection.
Want me to want you? Make me come and find you.
It’s not you, it’s me. But why do I feel bad anyway when clearly TG never did?
Anyway, Topo Gigio couldn’t do the friend thing even though I pretty much lost interest the moment I failed to see any beauty in Whorothy or his having wasted four years waiting for her and having another 11 more till the last kid graduates. RED FLAG, PEOPLE.
But you know, I get the whole, “Bitch back off and this is me telling you nicely” aspect of it all.
The thing I found with TG is that he doesn’t want anybody. I’d wager that he’s not all that interested in Clown Car Cooch, either. She’s a convenient excuse for his inexcusable weirdness and trough full of Lion’s Pride that keeps him at an entire football field’s distance from anyone who dares to love him.
I don’t know. I went from believing in soulmates to NOT believing in soulmates to now just thinking, if there isn’t a spark then it’s not meant to be and so, if there IS a spark someday, somewhere, that’s soulmate potential, right?
Sparks. Can has?