Asked yesterday afternoon, “So, do you have a girlfriend?”, I replied, “It depends.”
And she asked, “On what?”
And I replied, “This depends on if you live within 100 miles of Albuquerque, have an unlimited Cheveron gas card, and have even more unlimited time to drive these 200 miles forth-and-back to fill the void of perpetual neediness carved deep and wide by years of compounded abandonment issues.”
I thought that was a snarky, metaparaquasi-cruel way of saying “I’m concentrating on my career right now” (euphemism of some sort) and instead I’m brewing Keurig-for-two in the hotel room this morning.
Oddly interesting, even when I’m an overt meanie-head trying to give the brush off to a darling ginger lass, I still come off weirdly charming.