RE-ENTRY

SO I RECENTLY REINTRODUCED MYSELF into the life of a girl who is, among other things, very special to me. You may know her as emotionally-unavailable Valentine Candidate #1 from my Valentine's Day Post. It had been about a month and a half since I last saw her, but I was at my first shrink sesh in ages, so I was right up the block. I had just purchased a fantastic pair of sunglasses using my Banana Republic discount (among the only perks of working there), and was dressed rather snappily, so I decided to waltz in and sweep her off her feet. Apparently it had been too long since last I saw her, because I forgot that her feet were nailed to the fucking floor. I found myself having trouble meeting her gaze, my usually-rich baritone turning into a warbled screech, my palms sweating. I wondered what could be causing this frightful change in my unshakable demeanour. Yes, you guessed it - it was love. But I'm doing fine without her, I thought to myself. Why the fuck are you HERE? I reflected for a moment while she told me about her period which was the worst in recent memory and made her "look four months preggo." Because you'd be happier with her, dickhead! This was cause for consternation. My internal monologues are very infrequent, but when they occur they're generally right. I knew this was the case.


I realized that I was, in fact, happy to see this girl. She's always a mess, either because her stockings are running or because she's got a gnarly bruise or a hangnail. Today was no exception. She had just gotten some blemish removed right on the bridge of her nose, which she was perpetually worrying about despite it not mattering at all. I took a breath, grinned. She hadn't changed much, aside from the fact that she was seeing some Persian cunt who showers her apartment in rose petals or some such faggotry. She did give me great news, though - she'd decided to go back to school and was writing some scenes for herself. From what I've seen, she's a pretty good actress - I took her to a script reading for my Dad's new movie, and she cold read some bit parts really well.

I found my palms drier, and my voice steadier. She suggested we get a cup of coffee, so we went to Starbucks and had a pair of milkshakes for grown-ups (Frappucinos? Ice Blendeds? Something...) and a "Chocolate Banana Dream Cake" (who's the fag now?). We talked for a while about fulfillment and her lack thereof, and she played me some chick music that I pretended to like and we held hands for a bit. It felt great.

Then it was time for her to go to work, so I saw her off as she dashed in, late, then played around on the driving range to work off my drunk (I'd invited myself out for a few drinks, and I had accepted). We talked a bit on BBM and I read one of her scenes. It needed a lot of work. In her defense, it's an "episodic", but the rhythm was off (the first line is "I love you," for fuck's sake), and the dialogue needs some fine tuning. But I enjoyed it. Mainly because I'm familiar enough with her to know that she was writing herself, for herself, but it was nice to know I'm not alone in the fucked-up relationship department (I still have a slight scar from when my first - and last - Filipina girlfriend stabbed me in the chest with a pocket knife).

Then I left and got drunk with Brian.

THE FOLLOWING EVENING SHE WAS, naturally, going on a date with the Persian, but I grinned a double-wide grin of satisfaction knowing that at best he'd get his red wings on the worst rag of her young life, while I'd be out with a lovely blonde from work. I had a great time. We went to our "usual" spot for drinks, then we walked damn near three miles before settling on a place for dinner (ritzy Korean BBQ with tiny portions and enormous price tags), then made out and saw I Love You, Man (Hilar-bear - definitely see it) and made out some more. THE REST IS SECRET. But, gentle readers, at least you know now what I've had my hands full with lately. Also, I'm working on three graphic design jobs despite the fact that my work computer is in the shop so WTF. Talk soon, kiddies.