Monday, July 20, 2009

Fuck That Other Guy. I Walk the Line!

You ever been broken up with by someone who cared a lot more than you did?  It's kind of an uncomfortable situation. Not only that, but when it's done over AIM, it takes forever.

I was just about to go back to watching TV, when she started the break-up song. How frustrating, right?  I mean, if I'd left a second earlier, I'd still have been laying around giggling to myself. But no, it was time for the whole "moving to fast" thing, which was weird, by the way, because, if I remember correctly, I never initiated anything -- any momentum we built up was completely her doing.

Anyway, it started happening, and what was I supposed to do? "Sorry, can we pause this break-up thing for a sec until I'm done with this episode of Curb?" So, I'm pretty much stuck now on AIM, so I started messaging one of my friends to give him the play-by-play.  If I had to sit through this, shouldn't someone else? It at least gave me something to do while sitting through the downtime in between each paragraph she sent about how it wasn't me,  but her!

The really tough part is this, though. She kept apologizing, and I was starting to run out of vaguely ambiguous things to say to make it seem as if I was understanding, and to make her not feel bad, while not making it look like I was actually upset, but not eliminating the possibility either.  I didn't want her to feel bad about this -- I mean, I barely know her. I don't want to go around hurting strangers' feelings all over the place; I'm not that kind of asshole. -- but, on the other hand, I didn't want to make it seem like I was taking this hard or something. How embarrassing would that be? So, I didn't really know what to say really, other than shit like "Yeah, I mean, don't worry about it! ... S'all good!" I think I came off looking like a really well adjusted guy (Which can't be the case... wait, are cold, unfeeling robots well-adjusted? I guess a robot's being well-adjusted has more to do with precision mechanics, doesn't it?) .  But I was this close to just going "Don't feel bad. Honestly, I wasn't that invested in this!" To which she might reply, "You mean... emotionally?" And then, since I'm so honest, I would have to say, "Well... really, in any respect.  I just wasn't that invested at all."

Eventually, I was able to end that apology part of it. But by making a joke, which was, I think, a ballsy gambit.  I mean, I don't want to insult her by not really caring, but what if the joke comes off as too nonchalant? Then I'm really fucked, because she thinks I'm an asshole, and I wasted all that effort to avoid that in the apology section of the break-up. It seems to have worked, though, because the apology part did end, and she didn't flip out on me.  But I'm not sure, because her response was first, "lol," followed quickly by, "I don't even know what to say to that." So, I guess she was throwing that "vaguely ambiguous" technique right back at me.

So, that was kind of awkward.  But now, I feel great!  It's like a shot of energy; I've watched TWO MORE episodes of Curb, and I bet I'll be able to throw another one in before I fall asleep. And I can feel a burst of productivity coming. I mean, just look, I posted something on this blog! What more do I need to say?

...

Shit, I just realized she still has my can-opener.

**Update: I got it back.**

Saturday, July 4, 2009

True Story.

Yesterday, as I was in line to get to the ATM, I met a woman who had NEVER USED AN ATM BEFORE IN HER ENTIRE LIFE.  She looked like she was at least in her 80's.  The bank was closed (and has been for several weeks), but she tried for around ten minutes to open the door, but just kind of holding on to the handle, but not really pulling.  When someone told her that the bank was closed, and that she could get money from the ATM, she confusedly said OK, and then proceeded to watch the person at the machine very closely, ostensibly to see how this machine operated.  She started looking through her wallet for a card to use (the man at the machine had told her she needed a bank card, otherwise I don't think she would have made it this far), and pulled out a piece of white cardstock paper with her account info written on it in pen. "Can I use this?" she asked me.

"I don't think so," I replied. She slowly left the room, apparently to find the neighborhood apothecary. I need a new bottle of Dr. Miles' Nervine Pills, she thought. The world's never moved so fast.