"DENIAL IS THE ULTIMATE VANITY."
There are certain events in life that you can relive over and over and continue to speculate ad nauseum. The virtual loop clicks like an 8mm film in your head. You can choose your replay in black and white. You can go with Technicolor. Go for the silent picture option of grainy and old tymey with turn of the century garb. The situation remains the same. Noir would be great. I could be a private eye circa packing a roscoe with no time to bump gums with two dames.
Friday's situation involves the woman sitting across from my sister at Buckhorn Grill. It is worth reviewing since I allowed this woman occupied nearly 12 years of my life. Sitting next to my sister at Buckhorn Grill on a Friday night was strange enough. It is odd that my sister are out in public without a third. The most likely suspects would include another family member or Dave the dog that happens to live at my sister's house (Dave is his own dog).
You can skip to the back story for now. And if I ever publish it will be inherent that things are cleaned up. Regardless. . .
I sat there trying to feign interest in the subject of ringtones. My sister and I were breaking in our new PDAs. This was officially my first cell phone so I had started to make my own ringtones. And I fell into the trap of selecting specific ringtones for specific people. Like you do. My sister and Victoria (fuck it, you know who I am talking about) didn't understand that Iggy Pop, David Bowie, Brian Eno are staples in anyhting to do with music. At least with me. And there is going to be a measure of camp. The GoGos, Arthur Brown and show tunes.
Ringtones are to the 21st century what answering machine greeting were the the midn-1980's to mid-1990's. Now they are merely individualized and call screening has given way to caller ID.
Somehow Victoria got it into her head to call me in an effort to hear what ringtone I had chosen for her. The ego this woman carried. I didn't have her in my list of contacts for good reason. My PDA rang with what is the standard for unrecognized callers; I Wanna Be Your Dog. I did not have the wont (not w-a-n-t, it's wont, look it up) to explain my choice of ringtones nor did I seem to feel a need to begin to develop one. My sister didn't understand her ringtone. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I only took 15 minutes to learn how to make the ringtones making a dozen or so to use the audio editing tool. These were the remains of the first pass.
Once Victoria did call I chose to enter her into my contact list for the specific purpose of having hear a ringtone.
Rich Girl - Hall & Oates
Camp - with a twist of wit.
Victoria laughed. Then became indignant due to te fact at one point the lyrics in the song included the word "bitch". Yes, they do. Hall sings , "it's a bitch girl". It's. Over the next 15 minutes she attmepted to explain that she isn't a bitch, that she isn't uncaring and how vain she is not. Denial is the ultimate vanity.
Over the next half an hour I drifted in and out of their conversation. Momentarily glancing in to deliver a well timed and humorous comment and then to drift back out. Looking off toward the valets who seemed to be mere props at the new wine bar next to Buckhorn. Less than a few feet away was the woman who had been for so long the definition of what I found attractive in women. She was within a slight lean over a wobbling table and bent arm distance. But I had no interest in entertaining her ego any further than I already had. I wasn't thinking of Victoria that night at all. I wasn't attracted to Victoria. I am not sure I ever was. I was thinking of someone else. Something I have known for a very long time and I was in denial about for most of my (sex) life.
There is a difference between what you find attractive in people and who you are actually attracted to. Great if you can find both in another person. My estimation is that for the first 15 years following puberty we will attach ourselves to anyone with some of those attractive qualities and tolerate everything else. Booze plays a large role in this process. Thinking to yourself that you can put up with the flat ass and the bad breath because they had a nice whatever. Chest, face, maybe they just looked good in general and the ease of access to their crotch made up for the rest.
There's probably a list in your head that you don't know is a categorized list. It has what you find attractive in people and what you can tolerate. The things that bother you and things that just take that person right out of consideration when it comes to naked time. But of course I have an acutal list. But you're not going to read that list here and now. It doesn't really mater.
Friday night in my mind I found myself compelled to think of the woman I am attracted to. Her face turning and blasting that smile that just makes me want to chew bricks. I drifted off long enough to think of her voice as it purrs before her lips even begin to move then drags you along for a ride. He arms raising and slowly lowering like the prongs of a forklift when she laughs. I tought of the last time I felt her breathe in my ear. I tortured myself the rest of the night thinking about her. And I spent the majority of today thinking about her. I usally do. So this is nothing new.
It's easy to walk away from what makes you feel raw emotion and passion. The hard thing is to stick it out. To wrap your arms around what is a trainwreck about to happen and hold on as long as you can. Nothing is more painful and hurts longer in this life than hope. Every so oftens it wears on me. But I'll gladly carry hope around. It's what keeps me going. It keeps me going. I find myself looking back on the street sometimes. Taking a second scan across the room at the bar. Thinking the next time the phone rings it comes with the only five words I want to hear, "now what are you doing?"
There are certain events in life that you can relive over and over and continue to speculate ad nauseum. The virtual loop clicks like an 8mm film in your head. You can choose your replay in black and white. You can go with Technicolor. Go for the silent picture option of grainy and old tymey with turn of the century garb. The situation remains the same. Noir would be great. I could be a private eye circa packing a roscoe with no time to bump gums with two dames.
Friday's situation involves the woman sitting across from my sister at Buckhorn Grill. It is worth reviewing since I allowed this woman occupied nearly 12 years of my life. Sitting next to my sister at Buckhorn Grill on a Friday night was strange enough. It is odd that my sister are out in public without a third. The most likely suspects would include another family member or Dave the dog that happens to live at my sister's house (Dave is his own dog).
You can skip to the back story for now. And if I ever publish it will be inherent that things are cleaned up. Regardless. . .
I sat there trying to feign interest in the subject of ringtones. My sister and I were breaking in our new PDAs. This was officially my first cell phone so I had started to make my own ringtones. And I fell into the trap of selecting specific ringtones for specific people. Like you do. My sister and Victoria (fuck it, you know who I am talking about) didn't understand that Iggy Pop, David Bowie, Brian Eno are staples in anyhting to do with music. At least with me. And there is going to be a measure of camp. The GoGos, Arthur Brown and show tunes.
Ringtones are to the 21st century what answering machine greeting were the the midn-1980's to mid-1990's. Now they are merely individualized and call screening has given way to caller ID.
Somehow Victoria got it into her head to call me in an effort to hear what ringtone I had chosen for her. The ego this woman carried. I didn't have her in my list of contacts for good reason. My PDA rang with what is the standard for unrecognized callers; I Wanna Be Your Dog. I did not have the wont (not w-a-n-t, it's wont, look it up) to explain my choice of ringtones nor did I seem to feel a need to begin to develop one. My sister didn't understand her ringtone. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I only took 15 minutes to learn how to make the ringtones making a dozen or so to use the audio editing tool. These were the remains of the first pass.
Once Victoria did call I chose to enter her into my contact list for the specific purpose of having hear a ringtone.
Rich Girl - Hall & Oates
Camp - with a twist of wit.
Victoria laughed. Then became indignant due to te fact at one point the lyrics in the song included the word "bitch". Yes, they do. Hall sings , "it's a bitch girl". It's. Over the next 15 minutes she attmepted to explain that she isn't a bitch, that she isn't uncaring and how vain she is not. Denial is the ultimate vanity.
Over the next half an hour I drifted in and out of their conversation. Momentarily glancing in to deliver a well timed and humorous comment and then to drift back out. Looking off toward the valets who seemed to be mere props at the new wine bar next to Buckhorn. Less than a few feet away was the woman who had been for so long the definition of what I found attractive in women. She was within a slight lean over a wobbling table and bent arm distance. But I had no interest in entertaining her ego any further than I already had. I wasn't thinking of Victoria that night at all. I wasn't attracted to Victoria. I am not sure I ever was. I was thinking of someone else. Something I have known for a very long time and I was in denial about for most of my (sex) life.
There is a difference between what you find attractive in people and who you are actually attracted to. Great if you can find both in another person. My estimation is that for the first 15 years following puberty we will attach ourselves to anyone with some of those attractive qualities and tolerate everything else. Booze plays a large role in this process. Thinking to yourself that you can put up with the flat ass and the bad breath because they had a nice whatever. Chest, face, maybe they just looked good in general and the ease of access to their crotch made up for the rest.
There's probably a list in your head that you don't know is a categorized list. It has what you find attractive in people and what you can tolerate. The things that bother you and things that just take that person right out of consideration when it comes to naked time. But of course I have an acutal list. But you're not going to read that list here and now. It doesn't really mater.
Friday night in my mind I found myself compelled to think of the woman I am attracted to. Her face turning and blasting that smile that just makes me want to chew bricks. I drifted off long enough to think of her voice as it purrs before her lips even begin to move then drags you along for a ride. He arms raising and slowly lowering like the prongs of a forklift when she laughs. I tought of the last time I felt her breathe in my ear. I tortured myself the rest of the night thinking about her. And I spent the majority of today thinking about her. I usally do. So this is nothing new.
It's easy to walk away from what makes you feel raw emotion and passion. The hard thing is to stick it out. To wrap your arms around what is a trainwreck about to happen and hold on as long as you can. Nothing is more painful and hurts longer in this life than hope. Every so oftens it wears on me. But I'll gladly carry hope around. It's what keeps me going. It keeps me going. I find myself looking back on the street sometimes. Taking a second scan across the room at the bar. Thinking the next time the phone rings it comes with the only five words I want to hear, "now what are you doing?"