Saturday, November 29, 2003

... and so Lily is diagnosed with can't-be-nice-otosis. I think I'm one of those people who enjoy sabotaging their relationships. I mean, why else would a conversation like this occur:

Lily: So what else is big on you?

Girl2: Lily! Don't say that!

Lily: Well, he already showed me his ears.

Baby Blue unveils his ears.

Girl3: Okay, those are big ears.

Baby Blue: I can also *verb* cans with my *noun*.

Starts doing twisty, bendy, and other "I'm probably better in bed than you are"-type feats

Girl2: That's weird, but really cool. I like it. Teehee.

Girl3: You're like a cartoon character.

Lily: Too bad you're not as interesting as one.

Baby Blue: What?

Lily: I said, too bad you're not as interesting as one.

Baby Blue: Well, isn't that a shame?

You see. Baby Blue (no lie: his eyes remind me of aquamarines, I tell ya) has his very own hoard of female groupies. Fawning over him like a fat man on cheese. Dangling their nougats over his head. And playing with his hair like a child molesting spaghetti. And for some reason, I felt the urge to bring him down. I always have this urge around certain people. Why is it that when compliments go flying, I need to be the one who roughs up the air? It's not like I don't get my share of compliments. They're nice when they're sincere and used in moderation. But what happens when it borders on the obscene? What happens when you know your ass is kissed red? Can you still enjoy it? Does he enjoy it? It's all very complicated. No. A trite too simple, more like. I mean, it illustrates his love affair with attention. He delights in the fact that it's flourished on him like confetti at a wedding. So maybe, he's not the man I idealised to be. Maybe ... he-has-a-girlfriend-anyway-so-it doesn't-make-a-difference.

It's the big kahuna of ego-boosts when a woman is able to seduce a man away from his significant other. Besides, he doesn't need my noticing when his charisma's already captured all those other doting femmes (and hommes), seen by his locker like a flock of Danish hookers.

What was there to lose when there was nothing to gain?

Oh, how I drink up the lies I tell myself ...

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