Saturday as I was wandering around Pioneer Courthouse Square with Admiral Fubar, I spied a hottie sitting at the table in Starbucks. So, I gave him a card and wrote on the back… “I saw you. You’re Beautiful” and left my number.
I was so proud of myself. Fairly skipping around with self-pride until I later mentioned it to Friar Thomas in passing and he said, “You mean, you didn’t talk to him?”
“Well, no.” I replied. “A card is like saying I like you enough to make contact, but maybe not enough to sit on your lap and have a conversation.”
“Oh, that’s right,” He said off handedly. “I forgot you like to keep everyone at arms length.”
He said it so matter of fact. As though he were just stating an honest observation that he’d forgotten he had. Or like commenting in the middle of a downpour that it was raining.
My first instinct was to deny it, bite back with a sarcastic refusal – but he had already moved on to the next topic, as though he had no idea that he’d just effortlessly flayed me open and it hurt.
It hurt because he was right, and I knew it.
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