"Maybe there's a God above, but all I ever learned from love
was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you."
- Leonard Cohen
Then there was that dreadful camping experience. What made you think you were the outdoorsy type, anyway? In a cheap tent you had just bought en route, you slept with some guy while on your period, simply because you were drunk and thought he was vaguely attractive, or his accent was attractive, anyway. You remember waking up in the morning, a wave a nausea coming over you as you gazed upon this man's face, eyeing the beer stains all over that same white shirt he would always wear. And yet you both made a vain attempt to see each other afterwards, see if it worked, and all the while you flattered him while he insulted you, because you thought it was the thing to do. And then the whole sorry affair ended just like you expected it to, and you weren't one bit surprised, but you were still profoundly disappointed.
For a day or two.
It was when others had the nerve to point out your shortcomings when they refused to acknowledge them in themselves that you began to be vicious. And oh, how it came easily to you.
Yes, you were 30 and still single. But you would rather be that than 36, divorced, and coasting on your damn accent because it was really the only thing you had besides being able to play a good game of pool.
You regretted lying to him and telling him he was the best ever in bed, because all he had to say was, tell your friends.
Tell your friends indeed.
was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you."
- Leonard Cohen
Then there was that dreadful camping experience. What made you think you were the outdoorsy type, anyway? In a cheap tent you had just bought en route, you slept with some guy while on your period, simply because you were drunk and thought he was vaguely attractive, or his accent was attractive, anyway. You remember waking up in the morning, a wave a nausea coming over you as you gazed upon this man's face, eyeing the beer stains all over that same white shirt he would always wear. And yet you both made a vain attempt to see each other afterwards, see if it worked, and all the while you flattered him while he insulted you, because you thought it was the thing to do. And then the whole sorry affair ended just like you expected it to, and you weren't one bit surprised, but you were still profoundly disappointed.
For a day or two.
It was when others had the nerve to point out your shortcomings when they refused to acknowledge them in themselves that you began to be vicious. And oh, how it came easily to you.
Yes, you were 30 and still single. But you would rather be that than 36, divorced, and coasting on your damn accent because it was really the only thing you had besides being able to play a good game of pool.
You regretted lying to him and telling him he was the best ever in bed, because all he had to say was, tell your friends.
Tell your friends indeed.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
artpie:
stuck in the woods with a beer encrusted mongoloid... man, if I had a nickel... 
72decibell:
so right and so on the nose Ms. Lillitatiana. thank you for your comment on my last journal entry and i so love your literary voice in the above journal. mongoloids and yellow crusty eyes are not something someone of your grace, intelligence and stature should have to endure.
