Do you live around here? "I live with my mom. And no. "
What do you do? "I'm perpetually between what most would call gainful employment." Or "I'm a full-time troublemaker."
You should give me a call sometime. "I don't do phone numbers."
We should go out next week. "I don't do dates. I definitely don't do dinner."
Where'd you go to school? "Dartmouth." If they call bullshit, I smirk and give them a light tap on the shoulder with congratulations. Then don't answer the question.
The key here is two things, as Roissy's mentioned: mystery and the willingness to not play into her game. The script changes when you don't give her the same bullshit straight forward answers most guys do.
Each sentence exchanged is a chance for testing on BOTH sides. -- I was posting a comment over at Seasons of Tumult & Discord, and I remembered the time I had my nose broken in a barfight, bled all over my shoes. I left the bar I was at, walked to the strip club where a girl I was seeing worked, she handed me a t-shirt and sat with me whilst on her break. -- The aforementioned bachelor party did not occur, rather it did, but before I arrived to partake, the clowns could not even leave the first bar they'd hit in order to hit others before hitting the strip club. Friday night around midnight, they were 40 min's from the nearest strip club, and still closing tabs. Talk about a clusterfuck. Here's to hoping his marriage/decide to propose was better planned than his penis funeral known as a bachelor party.
At any rate, my friend who'd invited me to the debacle split the conversation relating the amateur night/lack of planning by also informing me that despite his son having been born less than one month ago, it looks as though he and his wife are separating. I chose not to note the irony of his "celebrating" in any form/fashion another guy buying into the soul raping tradition which he is currently taking it up the figurative ass from, but anyhow. I had not the heart to kick a man while he's down by pointing out such things. --- I then recalled a conversation the day before with another guy my elder, who's first wife had cheated on him while he was in WAR as a soldier, then she tried to get full custody/despite diagnosed mental problems (he admittedly had a kid with the harpy knowing this, talk about stepping foot into the visible beartrap), now has a wife who's "wonderful". A few min's later he mentioned how his wife now is great, makes money, travels a lot/works as a consultant. I didn't have the heart to tell him about all the consultant girls I've known, met, with fiances, husbands, boyfriends, and how many of them behave when out of town by rationalizing it's the distance, the time away, the job, the career.......I could be wrong and she might be the exception rather than the rule....but, it would fly in the face of a lot of women I've known.
I shook my head quietly in disgust and stared into the sky then headed inside to sleep, content to skip a night out on the town ( a rarity, I know). I shook my head not for having burned his hand so much, as it was how people can so selectively shape their experiences and gleam little to nothing from them. I call these men the true hopeless romantics.
Oddly enough, as difficult as my upbringing was at times, I've managed to attract girls that had decidedly "normal" childhoods. Parents still married, happily even, the older, now best friends routine where the spouses seem to mutually care for and respect one another. It's a far cry from the things I saw growing up and the distance I feel from ****** as well as the arm's length distance maintained by much of my 'family'. Part of the inevitable disconnect I experience in each relationship is just that: experience has taught me hard lessons on life and expectations and results....and the girls I inevitably attract and likewise am attracted to have wholly different beliefs/expectations. In time, my stake in the relationship retrogrades as my belief that nothing lasts, little if nothing is permanent, and that inevitably connection turns to ash/dust/nothing. Combined with my penchant for womanizing, this toxic effect courses with each passing day, metastasizing and spreading to all corners of the world crafted with a significant other until the relationship ends in a fucking trainwreck for all involved.
I step into another day, another moment, another pursuit, hoping for something I wholeheartedly believe is unattainable.