|If this is about dating, lets talk about dating.
||[Nov. 18th, 2003|10:33 pm]
chronicles of a serial dater
If you recall Person P from a previous entry, I mentioned that he was re-smitten. So he wants to have a drink tomorrow. And I remember why I never liked him much. He talks a lot. About himself. On and on and on. He put a napkin in his shirt once at dinner. Like a bib. It wasn't lobster, and even if it was, its still something you shouldn't do. I did like some things, I think they might not be important things, but I liked them anyway. He has a really pretty body. And he dresses well, which also means he doesn't think its annoying that I care about these things. He doesn't intimidate me at all. He's funny and down to earth, and that phrase never means anything, so what I'm saying is, he says funny sincere things about himself, about his life, and about his thoughts. And I don't think thats enough. And I don't think I can even stand it for long. |
But I think I'll go anyway. Pass the time. Distract myself. Listen to him tell me about his banjo(!) lessons. He's a good guy. There won't be love or anything like that, but why not have a drink? (Oh, I know why. Because I drink way too much and make all kinds of drunk decisions. Because everything seems like a much better idea when I drink. But all that might have to go in another journal, maybe later, when I admit it.)
Another thing: when I started seeing Person R, I was still with Person C. It wasn't serious or long, it just overlapped a little. And incidentally, I gave Person C the same exact speech Person R gave me. (Karma? No!) He didn't take it well at all. It wasn't exactly like the reaction I had, his was a little more fatal attraction. More "I'm going to wait for you in the bushes in front of your house," less "your life's ambition is a joke, and I hate your body." So Person C is a little awkward now, and we haven't said much to each other since. But yesterday he returned a book I lent him. And inside was a pamphlet for Christian Friends:
"At one time or another, most of us have asked ourselves about the meaning of life. Who am I? How did I get here? Is there a God? What will happen to me after I die?"
I didn't read the rest of it, because I think its creepy, but on the back there's a little form you mail in, and you can check a box if you want someone to pray for you.
What is that????? Is it a bookmark? Is it a helping hand? This isn't a religious person. This is a person that knows I am not religious either.
Funny kid. Maybe I should send Person R one of those. Maybe then he will want me back, because Jesus tells him so.
The book was Notes from the Underground.
"The book was Notes from the Underground."
fucking excellent. i found one of those pamphlets on the grass at a park once. there was a page for you to put your name and date.. it was a bit add libbie come to think of it. "I, ____ ask god to something or other on the date of _______." i signed away my soul because i thought it would be amusing.. then i lost it.. the pamplet not my soul.
... maybe my soul too. in any case.. if my soul was binded to paper i'd stick it in the Underground.
No better place to put it. Did you know there is a book called "The Russian Debutante's Handbook"? Isn't that neat? If Dostoevsky was only alive to read it.
Oh and I read the Perks of Being a Wallflower because of you, and it explains a lot. About you. Fucking purists.
you know what's odd.. i'm afraid i'll unravel as i get older.. become more "dingie". i'm worried when i get older i'll smoke crack, cheat on my significant other and skydive without clean undies on.
did you atleast enjoy the fucking book?
i think the same thing sometimes. the older i get, the shittier i'll be. do things that i hate. forget about everything i believed.
but i don't think you have to worry. you're already old. i think you're as digie as you're gonna get.
i liked it very much. i read it in one sitting. i thought it was the sweetest and freshest thing i've read since catcher in the rye. in ninth grade. i kind of wish i would have read it back then too.