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It was not guilt or compassion or passion or curiosity
that drove him
It was happenstance
that he saw me on the interstate
He thought of me
only because I came into his line of vision
In an effort to reconcile his true feelings
with the rules of genteelism
he told her he would love to go with her to the Department Store.
He walks down the aisles
diligently attentive
knowing aisles are more than aisles
and isles are more than isles
he doesn’t like either very much.
So they spent winter in the Tropics
while he dreamed of wheat and farms
the sweet, welcoming smell of manure
welcoming because it’s honest
and it’s been a while.
So they spent the spring in the Alps
where he dreamed of sweaty Southern sunsets
and he told her
tomorrow
perhaps we should lunch at the Café on the Corner.
Yes?
This will come as a shock to some of you, but this Lady isn’t as progressive as you might think. Wednesday night, I met a lad for dessert at a local restaurant, one he suggested. We each had a chocolate crème brulee. We chitchatted about people we both knew. There were awkward pauses, but not a terrible amount. He had only a few minor facial tics. He had a strange growth pattern to his arm hair. I did not judge.
At the end, as a polite Lady should do, I offered to pay half. This is a customary for any girl with manners in the South and it’s a chance for the man to be a man. He declined to be a man and was like, “sure, we can split it.” I was stunned. I mean, the whole bill was $12. And besides, I had only $3 in cash, which he happily took from me.
I was glad Bryan was not there. It would have produced the Gay Gasp Heard ‘Round the World. My friend, Jade, was like, “I know times are tough, but…”
Cliched or wrong, I have been conditioned to expect the guy to pay for the first date. I do not believe that he should always pay, and I am all for paying every other time or splitting the bill thereafter. What is ridiculous to me is that he is the one who made the damn suggestion to go to this place.Don’t let dessert be the catalyst for my desertion of you, menfolk.
And also, I wasn’t excited about meeting him anyway. Nice guy, though. Aside from the dating faux pas…and I am not ruling out the possibility he was being passive aggressive because he wanted me to not like him. I mean, he’s a therapist and you know they are sneaky bastards.
Sigh. Dating is the worst thing that can happen to a person.
I mentioned in a previous blog that I would post the finest confusing rejection I’ve received in my relational career. It is from one Nuclear Luke.
Background: He winked, I winked, he said, “great smile,” I said, “thanks,” he said, “sorry for not getting back to you sooner, I’ve been studying,” I said, “okay, what are you studying for,” he said, “a nuclear test,” I said, “oh that sounds pleasant, are you originally from here?”
And then his last correspondence (July 3):
sorry i saw you emailed, ive just been busy and honestly didnt take the time to respond. im headed out of town to visit family for the 4th. have a great weekend!
No, I am sorry, dear Nuclear Luke, because I deserve more than this. You can’t capitalize the first letter of a word starting a sentence? You can’t bother with apostrophes to signal contractions? You dare send me a run-on?
Dearest Nuclear Luke, you are the biggest piece of shit I’ve had dumped in my lawn today. [Note to readers…this was prior to the ex’s dumping of steaming shit via bulldozer, which completely smothered the lawn. Nuclear Luke’s shit was overruled, I’m afraid.]
Ha. I wrote this post yesterday. This morning I had an email that said, “ok I suck at email. here’s my number.” And I cannot tell you how amused I am. I forgive his lack of punctuation and capitalization simply because he acknowledges that his previous email/response time is oddball. Of course, I have the urge to call him. But then Jade, rightly, points out that how can he possibly have time for me if he doesn’t have time for email. But then, some people are major duds electronically-speaking, yes? And then, Bryan says, see? He loves you because you ignore him. So then I think I want to be loved so I should just ignore him, right? But then I wonder how am I going to ever snag a man if I’m so busy ignoring him. Bryan says it’s a game. I’m pretty sure I’m hopeless.
I considered my options. I wrote them all out. I tried to be measured instead of impulsive. I decided that 1) I did want to respond to him, but 2) only to ask if he really had time to get to know someone, and 3) I put the calling back on him and gave him my number, should he decide he has time. I won’t call him. There is no sense wasting time. We’ll see if he can man up. I am willing to consider that he’s not an emailer…although I met him ONLINE. I am perfectly willing to overlook him for distraction’s sake. Still, you know I get myself in trouble when bored, so let’s hope he just says he doesn’t have time. I hate being ignored, that also gets me in trouble.
Trouble=bad.
I’ve accepted paper clips, rusted
when I should have chosen binder clips, the fancy kind
bigger the better, easier to keep all of me in one place.
I’ve kept myself in messy stacks
papers sticking to other papers and other stacks
useless copies, rereading what I’ve written twice already.
I’ve favorite pens that I neglect
Leave the tops off, shortening the lifespan
losing them besides, lost are all the sharpened pencils.
I’ve settled myself in disarray
chaos is the only proof there’s order, a cosmic alphabet
no need refiling, misfiled is worse.
He’s done it again
reminded me of him
a text tone I used to long for
and be excited about
He inspires bad things
ending phrases with prepositions
which I know is wrong
but I do it anyway when I think of him
He’s left an imprint on my life
like my friend says
and I will be writing and thinking of him
to the end of my days
But I tire of him and me. I did then and I do now.
Note: just a little ditty I wrote about the Asshole a while back. I feel as though maybe I posted this before but I can’t find it if I did. You’d think I’d be able to remember what tags I would have used.
- Create lists. Many, many lists.
- Breathe sighs of relief that you are keeping yourself silent.
- Drink Coke Zero.
- Feel guilty about drinking Coke Zero and go get some water.
- Watch your hard-won tan fade.
- Remember your luminous hair and shake it out for good measure.
- Distract yourself with all sorts of insignificant things all day. For example, how many tissues are cluttering up your desk anyway?
- Look for a pet online that you are completely inept to care for.
- Breathe a sign of relief that you don’t have time to go to the pound today to adopt a pet you are completely inept to care for.
- Consider your ineptitude for caring for yourself. This will offer amusement.
- Exercise and eat well.
- Try to call AT&T. You will not be able to actually speak to anybody who can do anything for you because they sense when you’re about to break up with them and this relationship is all they have.
- Think of the mayhem that is about to ensue in your book about people dying horribly and how you will be haunted very soon by the images you create in your head.
- Go to Family Dollar. Yes, it’s ghetto but it’s also fabulous.
- Plan how many hours of sleep you are going to get tonight.
- Enjoy Bryan’s descriptions of your heart condition.
- Appreciate that Keith Urban, even though he is exceptionally well-groomed (to a troubling extent).
- Make a hair appointment.
- Make an appointment for a one-hour massage in August.
- Worry if your dates in the next two weeks are going to judge you harshly because your roots are showing.
- Continue to watch your tan fade.
- Fondly remember the time long ago (say, 2-3 weeks ago) when you were fond of that horny Airman.
- Let the good people of the world know that you know what a chapbook is now and how Bryan patiently explained this to you 5 different ways because he thinks you a simpleton, even though you told him you understood his definition the first time he explained it.
- Correct emails that are sent to you, grammatically-speaking. You can do this mentally or in a Word document.
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
Your Sympathies: