two people in a room, fighting being alone

So we start, and if we start smart it's slowly. Dispassionate and far more boring than throwing yourself into something (an age & cynicism appropriate error to be sure), you have plenty of time to decode the human's particular sub-text: Motive, response mechanics, background, emotive and empathetic capacity... the stuff that truly needs to be tested to be wrested from the girl. If you at least bother knowing her in SOME context prior, you would at least be armed with some plainer intel that could eventually get under under your skin: Family, occupation, basic tude... or the fact that those aren't freckles on her legs but some perpetually itchy and incurable rash that she's sported for over a year... that is now literally under your skin

as you sit here

at 3:43 AM

and realize a littany of shit that frankly i could've lived without

it all ties together though. Disappointment. That's what adulthood is all about. It's no wonder the breed has so many willfully ignorant, cynical, or wholly apathetic specimen. We learn strategies like apathy to hedge ourselves; we pass them down and treat them like monochromatic and metaphorless modern adages.

But really, it's not all that bad. I'm way the hell past wallow; this is not some pathetic confessional, I would just like to write myself a note to read next time I start thinking about bringing a girl home and dropping L bombs like crazed naked berserkers because we had a drunken adventure of a month.

This is not to say I don't genuinely love the girl. I do, for all the reasons you might expect I would love any of my honest, interesting, interested, and large hearted dearest friends. And of course, it's been a week so I'm not out of moosh, but she seems to trying to help with the acceleration.

It's frankly refreshing and adult, but magically malicious! to be with someone that's this honest. About certain things only - but they are the big ones, and typically the playing fields of double speak and other passive aggressive tomfoolery. And she's even honest about not being honest about the little ones, when she blacks out drunk.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE! that night. (i don't have late night tv, but as you can perhaps tell by the commercials, right now I miss the damn drone of it... I wonder if it's because really, all of the shit that I'm thinking through tonight... makes me want to be a kid again, and not have to grow up and get all disappointy. thinking of the sound of muted, next room television feels and sounds so warm.)

Yeah so remember how she told you that nobody loves anybody (she effing started it too and was immedilove... I resisted! and fell right quick anyway becuaaaase we had tons of fun and she's talented and beautiful... and like i was saying, taking it slow is boring and dispassionate and i don't think anyone i've loved i didn't start up soon.)? And everybody cheats and lies ? Allowing for her just being drunk and sad and exaggerating, that was all fine by me.

That didn't matter then, but the next one should've: She confessed to a routine in which she just really wants someone until they open up and let her in (i think that's what she meant? but I believe she used the term is nice to her) and then she loses interest. That she liked a little rum in her coffee overall - dude to typical human scenarios, she responds to negative attention, sexually and emotionally. A and B are also both OK with me, and oddly and adultly attractive and impressively self-aware.

I just should've realized i was going to get some serious manipulation and that there is no way you should trust this girl's feelings or seeming adoration because she just effing told you they were phony...

Which brings me to where I was supposed to begin at the onset of this parenthetical bullshit dance: I started to not trust the buggers too. I really, really started to. It wasn't a matter of consciously taking those words and applying them to our situation, certainly not... But at that point we had commenced disagreement and it was plainly eroding... I'm not helping the situation either, as I run around like an idiot trying to make sure there aren't any leaks in our vessel before we even hit the fucking ocean... I just got real tired, real quick of disappointed in things because every time you come to from love's disillusionment (or infatuation, or from passion and into disinterest), you think a little less of the whole thing. I do. Of women in general, often as an adult, and I really, really hate seeing those words... but it's true. But anyway... this, and being able to go shoot fish in public barrels sometimes and rely on my reputation and, ahem, the "lay roll" of ex girlfriends (I just threw up for you, non-existent reader) often... it's fine by me mate. I like to pick the special ones, and it's not like they are on every corner in this town or in this state or in this world... but probably the most acutely in my town.

I shall parenthetically jiggle at a later date... this was the first installment, and meant to be posted a month ago. New thoughts abound.