Thursday, February 10, 2005

Trick or Trite

NorIda had dinner at mi casa. So I set my pan on fire and the smoke alarm went off like a schizophrenic psycho sumo. So I almost cleanly sliced the tip of my finger off as I was preparing to make an avocado smoothie. So M. Biologique came over just as she was leaving and applauded my new-found culinary talents. So we've been crazying it up since he left class at 5:00, snapping random snow-themed pictures and talking to strangers we didn't know were perverted until one of them took out a stack of Polaroids from his pocket. So he's sitting six feet away from me right now checking his email and making me realize I'll always be the other woman no matter how couple-like we come across in public. We are caricatures of a poised portrayal transparent to everyone but us.

I've already acquired sexual validation. But it is the emotional one I am denied.

I set myself up for disappointment when I go for unavailable men who, consequently, make me feel undesirable. Oddly still, knowing a new man is consistently waiting in the wings only heightens my fear of interaction, encouraging refuge inside the safe quarters of romantic exile found in the icy fields of predictability.


Here he comes.

Publish and minimize.

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