Friday, September 22, 2006

Give Back the Key to my Heart

Live and learn: Absolut Peppar vodka and tonic is actually pretty good, strange as it sounds, and it turns me from a grumpy loner into a chatterbox. Last night I wounded up talking at length to one of the Eclipse di Sol crew, who gave me some feedback (not so good) on my recent romantic decisions.

I was already kind of ruminating on said decisions over the course of my life, and their drive toward self-destruction. The girls I get most into are the girls that are gonna fuck me up. When I was younger I sort of figured it was a phase and I'd eventually settle down, as the cliche goes. Now, in my (still early, technically!) 30s, I'm not so sure. I look at nice, sweet, sane girls and think that could be the key to a good life, and then I forget them and twist myself into a pretzel over someone else. If someone tells me "avoid her - she's a strange one," I perk up.

Other people have figured out the secret, obviously. I see people in long-term relationships, and they're all normal and healthy and so on. Me? I think maybe I just want drama. I want everything to be a movie. I want to be punching the steering wheel and saying "that song's about HER!" as the radio plays. I want to be drunk and screwed up, not sober and stable.

Naturally, this is prompted in part by a new (and hopefully short-lived) infatuation. The girl's lovely and smart. There's also roughly 10,000 reasons why I shouldn't even think about it. Care to guess which side I'm tipping toward?

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