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December 1, 2014

“That was kind of bitchy.” Liz said.

“Was it?” I asked. “Oh well, I’m a bitch. That’s my new policy. Just embrace the bitch.”

I put my hands in the air, Nixon-style, and yelled out in the parking lot, “Alone forever!”

We had just had lunch at the Indian place next to my office. “The Nurse” was there with a woman having lunch and a bottle of wine at noon on a big Monday. The Nurse is one in a long line of feathers. Flirting and talking and handing me his card one night then nothing. Floating and flitting in the air like so many others. We were sitting in the adjacent booth listening to their conversation. When we got up, he looked at us and made a gesture with his hands. “Really? Really?” he said, feigning insult that we had not said hello.

“I wish I had seen you yesterday,” he said. “I could have shown you my No Shave November beard.”

“Really?” I said, “That sounds fascinating.”

This earned me the bitch call out.

“What was I supposed to say?” I asked Liz in the parking lot. “What was that? ‘I wish I had seen you yesterday’? Like we’re friends or something. It was a stupid thing to say. I wanted to say, ‘Oh yeah, you should’ve seen me yesterday. My **bleep** was shaved.'”

Liz bent over laughing.

I’ve just had it. I’m done. I’m ready to quit. The feathers. The nonsense. Tinder. It’s all bullshit. Everyone is skirting the surface, hinting at maybe, possibly having a drink together with no follow-up. Let’s go see that movie, or not! I’m too bitchy? Well, being nice hasn’t worked. Try telling someone you like them, see what happens. Try making the first move. Nothing. Try not making the first move. Nothing. I know what some of you are thinking. The classic advice of the non-single to the single. Just be yourself. Stop trying so hard. You’re never going to find someone at a bar. Tinder is for hook-ups. Don’t be so intimidating. Oh yeah? Well, fuck it. I am going to be myself. And maybe myself is a sarcastic bitch who answers, “I wish I had seen you yesterday so you could have seen my awesome beard” from a virtual stranger and repeat-offender feather with a sarcastic and caustic response that clearly says, “Back the fuck off. Stop pretending that you know me when you happen to run into me. You’ve had your chance. You did nothing. And no, I don’t give two fucks about your beard. Fuck off.” How’s that for being myself?

Alone is my new stance. More time to paint. More time to write, though I may not have anything to write about. I’m going to date Netflix, Hulu and HBOgo. I’m going to date The West Wing and A Room With a View.

Nothing I try is working. I’m over the Lafayette cliques. I give up.




I’m sorry what? I sound angry? Oh, I’m sorry. You need me to be ok? You need to be sweet and happy? Upbeat and having fun and falling in love.

Is this bothering you?

Tough shit. I’m not all sunshine and rainbows coming out of my ass.





Fine. Yes. I have an appointment with my doctor and therapist. I’ll try another medication.



From → Rantings

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