One thing that's sweet about Mike is his sense of empathy. He asked about what I was like in high school, ugh. So I told him the truth, that I was a friendless, spiritless shell drifting from class to class, wishing I was invisible, treading water until I got my diploma so I could finally get the fuck out of there. I looked in his eyes and saw genuine concern and pathos. Not that I want or need anyone to feel sorry for me, but he was in sharp contrast to the indifference I've encountered in others ["Who cares what your life was like back then? Get over it, it's over. Let's fuck."]
Anyway, I forgot where I was going with that. I left a message for Mike to call me back.
That statement of his mom's, "I want a daughter-in-law, not a shopping buddy," strikes me as a very odd thing to say. I surmise that she wants someone she can control and influence and knows that it wouldn't happen with someone my age. Not to mention that I'm not of suitable stock. I kinda feel like that stable hand who had a relationship with the princess until the queen intervened and put a hasty end to it.
Class. From what class do I derive? If class is denoted, as I believe it is, by how one treats others, up to and including his or her offspring, then I do indeed come from a lower-class background. I've always sensed it, and I suppose others have, as well.
Since Mike's power and confidence stem from his strong family background, I'm not going to be responsible for disrupting it.
I was going to run or rollerblade but I've succumbed to my fatigue.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 12:49 PM
2 Comments:
Girl you go through so much, so fast. I feel like my life is on a loop in comparison. Good luck with the bye bye fuck fest, I hope you at least get some big Os out of it all.
Lois Lane
Haven't heard from him all day; not a good sign. If he dumps me via noncommunication I will be very disappointed to say the least. I'm kinda ready for a period where things aren't happening so fast.
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