The Company I Keep

In exactly one week, I’ll be on a plane flying eastward towards Tennessee, where I’ll pray that my layover ends quickly enough for me to be transported to Florida. More accurately, Moxley Ambrose, a Boston-cum-Cape Town apartheid supporting terrorist will be going to Miami alongside Donnie Donovan and Manchester Evans. He’ll be something of a renaissance man, if not completely batshit crazy. His backstory is quite amazing, having been raised in South Africa before being exiled to America, attending two of the finest law schools before getting thrown out for sociopath tendencies, now spending time at the University of Chicago Law School. It’s really a shame since he enjoyed Boalt Hall and Harvard Law, but his brand of conservatism couldn’t be tolerated. This will be his last vacation before gearing up for the 2012 election, where his support of Rick Santorum might have to cede victory to Mitt Romney.

But, before Miami, there’s a bit of shopping and general housekeeping. The last few weeks (two years, honestly) have taken a toll on me. The whole tussle with Blondie a couple of weeks ago made me reconsider my priorities. I’ve never been any good at dating, despite my best intentions. Either I rub girls the wrong way (figuratively and literally), or my shallowness takes over. I only ask for two things out of a girl I’m interested in: conversation and original working girl parts. I can admit to saying that most girls qualify under the latter, but the first has been a tough obstacle. I tend to attract the crazies which makes conversation bearable, but at the end of the day, interesting doesn’t equal completion. As commentators in sports declare, do not mistake activity for progress. I’ve been on quite a few meetings in the last few months, and the vibes just haven’t been right. Except for one who still loves her ex, and we haven’t spoken since that development. What’s more troubling is that there have been feelings involved, but they weren’t mutual on my end. Hence, I’ve spent time analyzing Leonard and Dr. Stephanie Barrett’s relationship from The Big Bang Theory. Leonard learned that although he was lonely, someone being in love with you doesn’t mean you have to love someone back. Coming to that conclusion was something I didn’t enjoy, since I don’t like thinking about or acknowledging I have a heart. I’m much more comfortable in my own skin as a soulless robot. It’s just my preference, since having a heart leaves you vulnerable to attack.

Such as when I went to the mall for pink knee socks. Yes, it’ll match my Dolph Ziggler shirt. Back before things went badly two years ago, I took Pippa to the mall because I wanted to get her a penguin from Build-A-Bear. They didn’t have any penguins, so that idea was nixed. We still walked around arm-in-arm, and stopped in front of Brookstone. I kid you not, I stood in front of the store and relived the scene from two years ago. She told me the other girl I had a crush on liked one of my friends, which ended a moral dilemma for me since I was trying to choose between the two. When she told me the news, I called my friend, told her to pursue another girl, and well, the rest is history. I thought it was funny seeing my chubby self scurry from the store, place the obscenity-laden call, then decide to go to Victoria’s Secret. If I recall, I bought her three undergarments: lime green, pink and yellow, and black. Yep, I do recall. I’ve wondered why I didn’t frequent Del Amo much in the last two years: it brought back memories. I was depressed for the rest of my trip. Every sight triggered a memory, like I could hear the conversations and speak with ghosts. My memory works too well.

I relived the last time I was dating someone, and I haven’t truly dated anyone since. I guess I am still torn up over things, and what I’m doing now isn’t exactly productive, but it works. A friend’s wedding is Sunday, and I’ll be attending alone, as expected. So many of my friends are committed, talking marriage, having kids, et cetera. I’m practically stagnant, and it sucks. Coincidentally, today is the four year anniversary of when I got canned from Starbucks, and I’ve since yet to have a workplace where chaos was the norm, and management wasn’t the problem. These thoughts reside behind a pair of glasses with rhinestone crosses on the frames. No more heart, just being cool. And mildly offensive. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Flo Rida “Good Feeling”

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