In early times, people set fires at the edge of the water to warn boats of dangerous rocks and shores. In modern times, I will write stories at the edge of insanity to warn people of dangerous bitches and whores.
"Dirk, why do you have contempt for me?"
Oh shit, where do I begin? I guess it all started around the time that you told me you were making out with a guy in California.
When you decided to reclaim your ancestral roots and go to the HENNAC conference (hispanic engineer conference), we were having "problems"... and by "problems" I mean "you were unhappy with the way I was treating you and, being the self-proclaimed princess that you are, you wanted it changed." After my trips to Phoenix, you just thought that I wasn't showing you the respect and love that I had shown you before. So I took you to the airport and bid you a wonderful time.
During the trips to the Anaheim bar, some creepy married guy hit on you, and then kissed you and grabbed you. When you told me about what happened, you blamed me for not marrying you, because this would have stopped his advances. Unfortunately, my "crazy-bitch-to-logic" converter was broken that night, and all I could stammer out was "I'm sorry." After a few weeks of relatively calm discussion, you then told me that it wasn't completely one-sided. During his advances, you wondered about our relationship and, seeing that an attractive man was kissing you, that you didn't necessarily have to be with me. So you kissed back. And only after his hand went close to something did you run upstairs and frantically call me to chastise me for my inability to ward off...what? His advances or your doubts? This revelation, delivered when we were trying to be intimate, wasn't the best venue to tell me about how you "kinda-sorta" cheated on me.
When I was in Phoenix, you told me you wanted to switch jobs; that you hated where you worked and you wanted to be challenged. So you decided to apply where I work. That's great. Except you also decided to sell your house at the same time. Seeing as you hadn't even been through the initial parts of the job, I thought this was a bit too much. I was told by you that I was holding you back. So to expedite your transition to another office, I said it would be okay if you kept some clothes over at my place to ease the driving you had to do.
So now we sit in my dog-hair-covered apartment, a week's worth of women's clothes strewn around, discussing why I don't show you the attention that I showed you when you communted from your home. Your dog just vomited on my favorite blanket, I have to wake up early to drive you to work, I just put on another bit of calamine lotion on to our poison-oak covered arms (courtesy of the weekend we spent rebuilding part of your fence), and now I get to spend the next hour explaining to you that I don't love my computer games more than you. That, my succubus, is why I have contempt for you, and if you're truly too dense to realize what you are doing and how we will never mesh up I can't really....
"Dirk, why do you have contempt for me?"
"I don't have contempt for you, sweetie."
"Dirk, why do you have contempt for me?"
Oh shit, where do I begin? I guess it all started around the time that you told me you were making out with a guy in California.
When you decided to reclaim your ancestral roots and go to the HENNAC conference (hispanic engineer conference), we were having "problems"... and by "problems" I mean "you were unhappy with the way I was treating you and, being the self-proclaimed princess that you are, you wanted it changed." After my trips to Phoenix, you just thought that I wasn't showing you the respect and love that I had shown you before. So I took you to the airport and bid you a wonderful time.
During the trips to the Anaheim bar, some creepy married guy hit on you, and then kissed you and grabbed you. When you told me about what happened, you blamed me for not marrying you, because this would have stopped his advances. Unfortunately, my "crazy-bitch-to-logic" converter was broken that night, and all I could stammer out was "I'm sorry." After a few weeks of relatively calm discussion, you then told me that it wasn't completely one-sided. During his advances, you wondered about our relationship and, seeing that an attractive man was kissing you, that you didn't necessarily have to be with me. So you kissed back. And only after his hand went close to something did you run upstairs and frantically call me to chastise me for my inability to ward off...what? His advances or your doubts? This revelation, delivered when we were trying to be intimate, wasn't the best venue to tell me about how you "kinda-sorta" cheated on me.
When I was in Phoenix, you told me you wanted to switch jobs; that you hated where you worked and you wanted to be challenged. So you decided to apply where I work. That's great. Except you also decided to sell your house at the same time. Seeing as you hadn't even been through the initial parts of the job, I thought this was a bit too much. I was told by you that I was holding you back. So to expedite your transition to another office, I said it would be okay if you kept some clothes over at my place to ease the driving you had to do.
So now we sit in my dog-hair-covered apartment, a week's worth of women's clothes strewn around, discussing why I don't show you the attention that I showed you when you communted from your home. Your dog just vomited on my favorite blanket, I have to wake up early to drive you to work, I just put on another bit of calamine lotion on to our poison-oak covered arms (courtesy of the weekend we spent rebuilding part of your fence), and now I get to spend the next hour explaining to you that I don't love my computer games more than you. That, my succubus, is why I have contempt for you, and if you're truly too dense to realize what you are doing and how we will never mesh up I can't really....
"Dirk, why do you have contempt for me?"
"I don't have contempt for you, sweetie."
I don't know where you guys find crazy girls like this one while good ones rot from waiting.
