Classmates.com is not for people hold grudges. I just look at those ads and think, well, if you didn't want to hang out with me then, why would you want to hang out with me now? Because you're a salesman?

I only dated one guy from my high school. Actually, "dated" is too strong a word. We had sex in a field a few times. That's it. All it gave me was a strong affinity for certain kinds of moss.

I was the weird girl at my school. I was unapologetic about having lots of partners from other schools and grown-up partners, when I turned sexy at 16 years old. It was an abrupt change. I went from being a frumpy, attempting-to-be-preppy girl as a sophomore, to a very sexy, if suicidal, girl as a junior. I was unapologetic about my suicidal tendencies too--but they didn't lock me in an institution. My parents had to send me to therapy though, or social services was going to take me away from them.

I should be a grown-up and forgive all the kids who shunned me. They were probably just terrified. Right.

Update.

I got back with my old boyfriend. My last one. The editor Drongo, who can look a little like a woodland fawn aspect of Satan. I did it because he promised me he would be a better man, a true partner to me. I also did it because I miserable without him. I was in no shape to be with everyone else. I cried daily, often on the ferry ride home from work.

I am sick and tired of "love" or the finding of it, anyway.

Onto the next adventure.

The apple doesn't fall far enough from the...

My mom came to visit me. Yes, I do have a mother. She was, in her day, far more sexy and adventurous than me: she looked like a combination of Kim Novak in "Bell, Book and Candle" and that chic from the Avengers (which one? the more sexy, powerful looking one of course) and took a tour of the iron curtain countries in the early 1960's. Well, anyways, everyone loves her, because she is so sweet and giving and eccentric, but of course, she is very hard to endure--I mean live with, for those of us close to her.
I won't go into the bamboo incident or the thistle crisis here, but I have often wished I was her neighbor, rather than her daughter, so I could appreciate her like everyone else does.
Anyway, she collects ugly things in her home: skulls of animals, cheap and ugly busts of witches, long-armed monkey tie racks. In fact, itwas the purchase of the long-armed brass monkey tie rack with plastic emerald eyes that I first questioned. My mom hung it up at eye level on a door molding about 22 years ago--and I asked her why she bought it--not why she hung it there, for every square inch of her home was covered with other ugly stuff-- and she turned to me and said in a drunken roar, "I bought it because it was ugly."
I never understood what she was going after until today, when I almost bought an ugly clock with a red rooster on the face. I almost bought it because it was ugly--and the most interesting thing in the store.

The New Misogyny

So, I'm reading the Caleb Carr book, Killing Time, and while it is interesting--about conspiracy theory from the conspirator's point-of-view--it has one of the worst-written women in history, outside of a comic book.

Literally, the woman acts like a guy with tits and ass. Now, she is supposed to be emotionally disturbed from being used as a sextoy as a prepubescent, but even those chics act in certain ways. They've been documented extensively.

This book is a little dry emotionally, anyway, but still...

The new misogyny shows women in all these action roles: hitting, shooting, and fucking like men. Gee, isn't this great? Women can do anything men can do!

It's not great. Women can do anything men can do, physically, but there is never a ponderance of the mystery that is woman--the moods, the tenderness, the tolerance, the fragility in the strength. It seems like the hip thing to do is forget about it or explain it all away psychologically, and that is a denial of woman most chilling.

Why She Chose the Guy on the Bar Stool Next to You

"What men fail to understand is why one woman will
choose one man over another--emotionally--where for
them, one is basically as good as another. And the
pain of that rejection is what manifests as much of
the evil in this world."

My friend Cheri said that to me one day. It is really
simple, and I think I'm even paraphrasing something I
heard in a Woody Allen movie once:

"We're all neurotic. Love is when one person's
neurosis fits another's like puzzle pieces."

Or, to put it another way: all women are crazy; each
one needs to find a man who will not only interfere
with, but encourage her insanity.
(My god, I should be so lucky!)


And that's why she passed you up. pal.