Friday - Entry 39:
Tonight my plans were blown into atoms by a bomb. I managed to finish my daughter’s parent/teacher conference before the tics began. Even managed to drive home safely. However, by the time I made it up the stairs to my apartment, my body was no longer interested in following my lead and marched to a different beat altogether, often in different directions. My legs wanted to head south while my torso headed north while my arms held onto the wall for dear life.
Safely inside, the Leprechaun—my 15 year old angel—cooked dinner, and I sat in front of the television watching shows on CrunchyRoll. I had planned on cooking dinner, finishing a review, then plunging into some serious book revisions on the third draft of my book. Instead, I watched fanciful shows while I waited for dinner’s protein to kick in and stop the tics. While I watched a new episode of Golden Time, I mused that no milksop of a guy would attract a vivacious, energetic, whirligig of a girl like the main character did. It’s a trope of anime that shy, useless men seem to attract the most women. My experience has been different.
Have you ever been friend zoned while trying to ask simple questions? That is happening to me an awful lot lately, especially in church. I’m not sure what it is about me that conveys to women that I need to be warded off like evil, but I keep bumping into hissing and fingers held up as crosses. What makes it all the more puzzling to me is that I am not dating by choice, so I’m not flirting, hitting on, or trying to impress anybody. I’m not interested in anyone romantically. Yet, I say “Hi”, and they run for cover. Since I know I’m not wearing a date t-shirt like Rhys Ifans’ character, Spike, in “Notting Hill”, I can only assume people are misconstruing my natural intensity, or people are gossiping about me again. The gossip surrounding me has always been so much more dramatic and scandalous than the real me. I’ve been accused of being gay, a womanizer, a drug user, a satanist, a democrat, and worse. Who knows what tales they tell themselves about me now? If it is so, it is all the more tragic because while I feel invisible and ostracized, nobody bothers to verify the juiciest tidbits. Can’t I get in on the grape vine? I could make stuff up that would have their eyes bulging.
Chances are it’s just my ADHD-born intensity at work. On a scale from 1 to 10, where 1 is disinterested and 10 is head-over-heels in love, I’ll say “Hi” at about a 5. I like talking to people, and I do enjoy talking to women, so I might spark a little. The problem is my 5 is like 9 for some people. Heck, some people don’t get that excited on their wedding nights. So I know what’s happening, but it’s irritating nonetheless.
And there I was watching anime where weak kneed college guys without the barbells to be straight up with girls were literally being thrown to the matt by girls coming on like sumo wrestlers. I just rolled my eyes and laughed. When a guy finally told a girl to take a hike, I cheered, then replayed the scene.
I’m not still bitter over my divorce or anything. Why do you ask?
And now my writing warmup is complete, but it’s 1:20am. I’ll work a little on my book, then force myself to bed. Then tomorrow maybe I’ll terrorize the neighborhood women by saying “Hi” loudly and enthusiastically, or save it up for Sunday and make ‘em think that Satan himself has reentered the Garden of Eden with romance on his mind.
