Will the real you please stand up?
(Is there a terrible self-help book that's titled that?) Oh, never mind. What I am going on about now is people playing games. Saying things, retracting, telling me they don't want me to quit, telling someone else they want me to, saying we'll meet for dinner and not SMS-ing back if we are.
For god's sake, I am a girl alright. When you say you'll buy me a sandwich, I expect you to call me by 8 and ask me if you can pick me up (only because I work in HellHole and fresh autodrivers turn around and touch me). Failing which, I will SMS you because I have no pride and put uncanny connections before ego. So right now, the number that I SMS-ed has just seen delete key.
It's little games that annoy me really. Not talking when you come online. So block me if I pissed you off, arright? Don't give me monosyllables like some middle-aged chick who is trying to tell you you've pissed her off. Or yell at me. For fuck's sake, get it out and over with. Cuz in two freaking days, I won't care. And I don't like not caring, really.
Or like this other chick, who, out of the blue, decided I was bad news for her. Why? I have no bleddy clue, I say! I blame it on marriage. Hers. She says she may "regret" it in sometime, but now she'd rather I didn't stay in touch. Okay. But tell a girl why, no?
As I've just figured, and you probably too, I hate mysteries when they are not in books. I hate games as well. But only those that people around me play.
And that is exactly what I love about friends I made in college. They'll be the same wonderous creatures they were then at their core. They'll move to Chicago and have babies and become Lola Kutty, but at the core, they'll still call me Sandy and be happy that I am deliriously excited about life - even now. Of course, when I say it's been seven years since we finished college, they want to throw something seriously injurious at me but that's alright. At least, that way I can see what's coming at me.
To easier mazes of the mind.