Saturday, June 07, 2003

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.

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?

Wednesday, June 04, 2003

So there is this girl that calls me when she wants to drink.

And there is this girl that calls me when she is drunk.

And then there is the girl that calls me not at all.

Women. Hrmph.

I wonder what Ben and Gilberto are doing this Friday night?