"An autobiography is only to be trusted when it reveals something disgraceful. A man who gives a good account of himself is probably lying....."
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Hiding/Text B.S./Recalling a story
Soundtrack: Cheesy Rap/Rock for your day Slept deeper & harder than I had in ages...which is saying a lot. As of late, when my eyes have shut, I have slipped from existence and drifted to the bottom of nothingness. Morning came after what felt like ages. She removed her shirt. She pressed back into me. I had my predictable morning boner. She had shaved. Had the guilty/rushed morning sex necessary in a modern world lacking in primal priority but feeling its pulse beneath every interaction for those who listen. Drove into the bright morning and ignored the cool breeze. The hipster that served my coffee asked about my tattoo. She also asked if I was a fighter. We bantered and I headed into my day. --
Got a text message out of the blue from a number not matched to a name in my phone (given the wording, i was pretty positive who it was. I have learned however....how one must deal with such girls). Girl: hey how have you been? Me: (an hour later) who is this? Girl: (15 mins later) ***** . guess you forgot about me Me: ( 30 mins later) deleted your number Girl: (10 mins later) i was sick and busy for awhile after that Girl: ( >5 mins later) don't be mad at me Me: (20 mins later) not mad. hadn't heard from you so i deleted your number
In summary, this is the only way to roll with now n' later girls. When she had all the power (she assumed) she wantonly replied days apart/in sporadic fashion. When I didn't give chase, her curiosity got the better of her. She sent out a feeler message to gauge my reaction. I struck back with the one response she wasn't expecting. That I had the (in her mind) audacity to delete her number for something as sensical as not having heard from her.
Note the victim/little girl ploy about "don't be mad at me", framing it so I have done something/anything other than logically respond to someone whom I am not attached nor know all that well by deleting a number unused for communication.
I've had countless experience with her culture. I have flipped the script to which she is accustomed. She's gone off to lick her wounds in faux shock. Part of her is innately intrigued by my audacious choice to delete "her" number. --
I'm reminded of a particularly over the top night on my part. Not sure why.
I was out with a former lover and some of her friends. We ended up in a car on the way home. I was predictably drunk. Over some perceived insult, I began physically threatening a guy in the backseat of the car. In the haze, I vaguely recall/ think he had rubbed me the wrong way much of the night.
One of those guys who postures like he's a badass, and virtually every story he tells is about how f'ing great he is and how others are inferior by default. He had that fratty condescending tone that stems from having had a bunch of guys having your back for much of college whenever you crossed the line.
Guys like this tend to eventually subconsciously perceive my body language and my lack of feigning that I'm impressed...and unwisely choose to question me. I won't stand up to you b/c guys have my back. I'll stand up to you when tested b/c I will tear your fucking world apart and you won't be the first or the 15th guy whose discovered that.
Upon disembarking from the car, I began tapping on the glass, posturing, and threatening the man in the backseat. Like most males, despite his earlier claims of "fucking me up" he quietly sat in the backseat and mewled like a small kitten lamely trying to mock and make jokes.
No doubt, the girls verbally applauded his unwillingness to fight, characterized me as drunk, an asshole, and not making any sense.....but regardless of the logical reasons stated...emotionally, they knew that his web of claims and talk was simply an illusion, a bluff, a front....a facade...that when called to action he feared another man and demured.
Women respect a man willing to act...a man who chooses not to act....inhabits the cold, gray void of all those other men who fear consequences and talk a good game...but ultimately only spew words (bullshit)
You guys have any desire to hear some more late night brawl stories? I've shared a few of them on here/intermittently in the past. -With Greatest Affection