novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- my last year of smoking I think too much about everything. Apparently my look intimidates non-rocker dudes. I don't care; I like my style. Check that one off the list. Mync liked it, though, I could tell. He's jaded and his pants are too baggy but he couldn't sit near me without somehow touching a part of my body with his arm. Possessive. When he went to the bathroom, the tattoo artist hit on me. And I sat there thinking, "Do any of these guys like to write? Are they intimidated or put off by writers? What about loners, what about alone time? Why are there people who want you but who don't want all of you?" Mync wants to see me again. I am not sure. I may be too cerebral and moody for him. He might not be goofy and nerdy and music-loving enough for me. I've decided that I don't like dating; I've tried it for a little while, but it's exhausting. Going on a date is a little too much like going on a job interview. I'd rather just magically stumble onto a shared epiphany with a comfortable friend: hey, we're in love. Do you feel that? Yeah, I do. Me too. That's totally strange, but I'm glad, because I can talk to you about anything so I won't feel weird when it comes time to be naked around you. And I've started going to bars alone, just to write. Just a few, here and there. Squint in the tobacco smell, scratch Pentel Precise Premium. Few approach, some sit next to me and read. Makes me feel old school, like the old man and the sea. Salty, weatherbeaten masculinity in this case comes in a sea of lite beer and American Spirit cigarettes. There are habits that we have that are simple, hedonistic pleasures. Wanting to force a relationship has never been one of mine. 12:28 am - 04.03.08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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