On The Finer Points Of Being Vague
I have found that the one of the worst things a friend can do is tell you what you want to hear.
And I don't want to hear what I want to hear.
So I guess what I'm trying to do is present information in a way that provides a decent overview and encourages less-biased feedback. I also try to find a happy medium between the relevant information and the information I feel comfortable sharing. I don't remember planning it that way, but someone pointed out that the list below seemed to be in order from most specific to vaguest. I assumed that I started writing with the situation I felt most comfortable writing about and used that momentum to move on to the less comfortable subject matter.
This over-analysis has been brought to you by Gurg.
Over-analysis. Anytime.
Saturday, June 07, 2003
Thursday, June 05, 2003
Well, Miss Alyx, since you seem so genuinely enthused in knowing more about my previous post, I shall elaborate:
The 1st Girl:
Her name is Brenda and I had a study hall with her at Mountain Pointe. And if you�ve ever had a study hall at MP, then you know that most of the students that were in study hall were from Gililland Middle School. Brenda and I were no exception.
I ran into her at Mesa Community College around the middle of the semester and I would walk with her between classes every now and again. Now that we are both out of school, she calls me after she gets off of work to see if I want to have a few drinks and just chill. She�s cool, easy to talk to, and very independent. What I like most about her is that she can really take care of herself in about any situation. I enjoy spending time with her, but I do not expect any more to come of it. I am not interested in her romantically, although that is a tough call to make when you still getting to know someone.
The 2nd Girl:
This girl works as an exotic dancer and is actually married to a Marine sniper. Yes, yes, VERY dangerous territory indeed. On more than one occasion she has called me and roused me from my sleep to ask if I would be a �doll� and bring her something to eat. Again, she works at a strip club. After quickly confirming that I still had a penis, I would stumble out of bed and race off to find whatever random food she wanted that night. Purely unselfish I am.
But she has come over to my place to hang out. Our conversations aren�t bad, but she will often lament that all of her guy friends end up trying to get with her and now she has none left (except me, I assume.) She also like to keep me up-to-date on all of the new and interesting ways her husband is being trained to kill people.
She makes me a bit nervous. I mean, I know it�s hot in Phoenix and everything, but she really doesn�t wear much clothing. I�m sure that to someone who is used to wearing NOTHING it may seem like appropriate, but I don�t know�
The 3rd Girl:
She is the last girl I was seeing. I was happily getting to know this beauty of rare intellect. Then our budding relationship took a seemingly fatal misstep. Our physical involvement exceeded our then-current emotional involvement, and something somewhere must have blown a fuse because communication ground to almost a complete halt. That was some time ago and I have been patiently awaiting some kind of communiquae. I would like to know where to proceed from here. Any information would be welcome at this point. Nature abhors a vacuum, and so does my imagination. Logically, I would think that if someone has the means to talk to you and doesn�t do so, it means that they don�t want to talk to you. Simple, right? But no. HOPE, by far the peskiest of all emotions, is still lingering about. Perhaps I will come across a nail gun and just nail HOPE�s daintily dancing feet right to the floor so that it won�t be able to follow me if I decide to just walk away and not look back.
Aw yeah, clubbing with Ben and Gilberto this Friday! Anyone else want in on this?
The 1st Girl:
Her name is Brenda and I had a study hall with her at Mountain Pointe. And if you�ve ever had a study hall at MP, then you know that most of the students that were in study hall were from Gililland Middle School. Brenda and I were no exception.
I ran into her at Mesa Community College around the middle of the semester and I would walk with her between classes every now and again. Now that we are both out of school, she calls me after she gets off of work to see if I want to have a few drinks and just chill. She�s cool, easy to talk to, and very independent. What I like most about her is that she can really take care of herself in about any situation. I enjoy spending time with her, but I do not expect any more to come of it. I am not interested in her romantically, although that is a tough call to make when you still getting to know someone.
The 2nd Girl:
This girl works as an exotic dancer and is actually married to a Marine sniper. Yes, yes, VERY dangerous territory indeed. On more than one occasion she has called me and roused me from my sleep to ask if I would be a �doll� and bring her something to eat. Again, she works at a strip club. After quickly confirming that I still had a penis, I would stumble out of bed and race off to find whatever random food she wanted that night. Purely unselfish I am.
But she has come over to my place to hang out. Our conversations aren�t bad, but she will often lament that all of her guy friends end up trying to get with her and now she has none left (except me, I assume.) She also like to keep me up-to-date on all of the new and interesting ways her husband is being trained to kill people.
She makes me a bit nervous. I mean, I know it�s hot in Phoenix and everything, but she really doesn�t wear much clothing. I�m sure that to someone who is used to wearing NOTHING it may seem like appropriate, but I don�t know�
The 3rd Girl:
She is the last girl I was seeing. I was happily getting to know this beauty of rare intellect. Then our budding relationship took a seemingly fatal misstep. Our physical involvement exceeded our then-current emotional involvement, and something somewhere must have blown a fuse because communication ground to almost a complete halt. That was some time ago and I have been patiently awaiting some kind of communiquae. I would like to know where to proceed from here. Any information would be welcome at this point. Nature abhors a vacuum, and so does my imagination. Logically, I would think that if someone has the means to talk to you and doesn�t do so, it means that they don�t want to talk to you. Simple, right? But no. HOPE, by far the peskiest of all emotions, is still lingering about. Perhaps I will come across a nail gun and just nail HOPE�s daintily dancing feet right to the floor so that it won�t be able to follow me if I decide to just walk away and not look back.
Aw yeah, clubbing with Ben and Gilberto this Friday! Anyone else want in on this?
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