You Must Not Know Bout Me
Crying out problems works ok but sweating them out suits me better so I’ve had a dancing hiking biking weekend extravaganza, involving the Electric Slide and sunshine and my favorite farm and some quality time by the
Most of my blog posts go unnoticed and some of them stir up a string of comments and once in a while one causes my voicemail box to fill with confused messages, and such was the case last week. Sorry for the ambiguity of said post, and my continued reticence here. Suffice it to say that my latest attempt at gusto with a guy met with predictable mess.
I will supply just one anecdote about the Latest Boy Disaster, which is that a few Sundays back we shared a paper over pie, and at the end he lamented not going into work that day – not because he had particularly needed to get work done, but because he had Not Done Anything Special instead. And do any of you who have ever met me understand why I did not flee quickly and completely right then? Yeah, me neither.
Oddly enough the inevitable crash-and-burn this past week was immediately followed by a dinner with Operaman (scheduled weeks before) that I thought would be about him leaving town but was actually about him missing me, which, while not particularly tempting, was at least flattering. And the outing itself, involving chocolate malts and windows down driving and late night spinning on a playground roundabout, was a sound reminder of what it’s like to have fun with someone who really enjoys your company – whether you’re doing something Special or not.
I lost an hour this weekend the same as all of you (except for my faithful Arizona readers) and I think it’s the reset we’ve all been waiting for this long and leggy winter. Some friends and I over a pitcher of cider on Friday plotted the debut issue of You Just Fuckin Missed Out Magazine and I’ve really had quite the run of rejection recently but I’m pretty sure it’s that I suck at judgement rather than just that I suck. But fuck it. With better judgement I’d miss out on lots of Sunday afternoon discussions over pie, which are Enough at least for me.
posted by tortaluga @ 6:35 PM
2 Comments:
I understand why you didn't flee completely right there and then: because it is the year of gusto, because sometimes boys on crack just need a few hits over the head to see just how cool you are, because, "damnit! why doesn't he see just how cool I am!?" is sometimes a bewildering enough sentiment to keep you holding on to see if he'll come to his senses and because, most of all, sometimes if you expect gusto in others, you've got to grab the reigns and lead the way, even if you don't know where you are heading, even if it is dark, even if you ride right off a cliff.
David's right. It's a fine, hard-to-spot line between a guy who's stupid and one who's just not paying enough attention.
Keep your chin up.
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