Not Really My Girlfriend Anyway

Called Kim today on her cell around 1:30pm, expecting her to be at work like she said she would be. Her groggy voice didn’t recognize mine at first when she picked up. She was still in bed, and it was the abrupt, one word responses that told me she wasn’t alone. She’d stayed at the bar near her house ’til close and blew off going to work. I asked her if she still wanted to get together tonight and her, “yeah,” was more of an appeasement so she could get off the phone rather than explain to me in front of her bed mate why she couldn’t go out tonight. I asked her what time it was, and her voice trailed a bit from the phone as she asked, “What time is it now?” A deep voice replied, “One-thirty.”

I told her that I could tell she wasn’t alone so I’d let her go. She told me to call her later…sure. I’ll do that. I’m not really bummed. Her and I have done this before too many times to remember. I was just looking forward to something to do tonight. And I’m going to take the advice from the master PUA (pick up artists) that I’m reading about in The Game. When you dangle a piece of string in front of a cat, it’ll do anything to catch it. But when you lay that piece of string on the ground for the cat to have, it doesn’t want it anymore because the chase for it is gone…the elusiveness is taken away and it’s no longer a prize for the cat to catch. I’m going to be that dangling string.

But now, I feel hungry, alone, malnourished, dejected, rejected, infected with complacency.

Sweet you rock and sweet you roll.

 

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