Well, That Was Weird

Well, That Was Weird

11.11.05 (8:48 pm)   [edit]
The "date" lasted an hour and a half. I don't think I could take anymore.

Melinda is a nice enough girl in all respects I can see so far, but I really think this one is a dead end, and I'm likely just as bad for her. She seemed to like me, and it was pleasant enough to a point, but it was also disturbing and uncomfortable for me.

She's younger than I thought. 21. Now, I'm a guy. I LIKE young women. What guy doesn't? I admit it, I wanna fuck some sweet young thing. OK? Can you handle that?

And it didn't seem to bother her that I'm 14 years older, not at all. Which was pretty cool.

But that isn't the problem.

I found myself bored within 15 minutes, uncomfortable in 30, and ready to leave in 45. We went to the ultimate romantic dining establishment, White Castle. Her choice. She's mostly vegetarian, but she hadn't had a burger in a month and wanted to go there. She also insisted on paying her own way. At White Castle. I could handle the extra three bucks, but that was her decision.

I wanted very much to not dominate the conversation, because I'm often guilty of that and I'm trying to break that narcissistic bullshit. But she wasn't opening up much. Not in a bad way. She was laid back, friendly, laughed a lot at my stupid jokes. It wasn't even that she seemed to be holding back, she just seemed...dead. Nothing there. Not a lot of personality, and just nothing to really hang onto. The best part of the night was the few minutes talking about music. She plays saxophone and her band teacher got her into John Coltrane back in high school. It's the only jazz she listens to, but she loves Coltrane. So she certainly can't be all bad, ya know?

But the lack of personailty grated on me quickly. Then, when discussing family, I asked about her parents, which was when it got weird. Her mom is a nurse in town. They rarely see each other, simply because she's a college student (English major) and her mom works nights. They haven't lived together in a year, she hasn't spoken to her in a week or seen her in two. It sounds like they get along well, they just don't have time for each other.

When I asked about her dad, she showed the only strong emotion of the night.

"He's in prison."

It wasn't sadness or concern. She said it like she was GLAD about it. Hell, there was even a touch of a sadistic enjoyment of her father's jailbird status.

The next thing she did was like something out of a movie.

As she was saying "He's in prison", her hand went to her forehead. She brushed back a bit of her blonde hair, and there was something I hadn't seen before. A scar, partially hdiden by her hairline, probably four inches long on the left side of her forehead.

The whole thing came off like an intentional statement. My dad is in jail because he hurt me, and I hope he dies there. But I don't want to talk about it.

She didn't say that. Possibly didn't even mean anything like that. but it certainly was what I got from it. I don't know. But in that moment, I felt bad for her, and suddenly felt like I might be understanding why she was so hard to get through. Fuck. Poor girl.

She also has a scar on her neck, one on a hand, and two on the other arm. God knows where else.

She's very pretty. More so than I first thought. When I picked her up at work, she pulled her uniform shirt off to reveal a plain blue t-shirt that actually looks rather cute on her. Very nice build. Curvy. Not thin, not fat. Somewhat athletic. I love her hair. It seemed a darker blonde than I remembered,more towards my color. Long and wavy. I'd love to have it all over my face. She uses something good to clean it with, because she smelled great, and it seemed to be mostly coming from her hair.

And her eyes...that was hard to deal with. In one sense, they are astounding. Deep, deep blue. I looked right into them for a full ten seconds at one point, and she seemed to barely notice, evne though she was looking right back. Incredible, beautiful eyes.

But I also saw something else. She really does seem dead in places. The beauty in her eyes was the beauty of a carefully managed graveyard. I've been in enough to know that feel. Immaculately cared for, mowed and trimmed. No stones turned over or broken. Flowers and trees arranged like something out of a magazine.

But it's still full of dead people.

All this went through my mind in that ten seconds. As pretentiously poetic as it sounds, it's precisely what those eyes created in my head.

I had to fight off the urge to look more. Partially out of respect, but mostly out of a sinking feeling that I was about to pull myself into a world I really don't have the time, energy, or inclination to be part of. Those eyes are deep enough that Cthulhu could be down there in his eternal slumber under the stones of R'yleh. But that's the problem. Miles of deep beautiful blue, with a fucking evil space-squid at the fucking bottom.

God, she's pretty. Part of me wants to get in her eyes, her mind. Help her sort things out, maybe alleviate in some way whatever pain is in there. That's the good part of me. The bad part is full of knights banging coconuts together screaming "Run away! Run away!"

Actually, the bad part of me wants to fuck her, THEN run away. Fuck her really, really hard, then run naked out of the house yelling "Don't call me, I'll call you!"

I'm a sick evil fuck. I accept that.

But I think I can get over that. After an hour and a half, any desire to fuck ANYTHING (women, poultry, small rocks, a Telefunken U-47 with rubber) was mostly gone from sheer mental exhaustion. I had a shitty day anyway (no overtime at work tomorrow, called off two hours before I left, I'm SO fucked financially), and it ended with me driving back home thinking I'd just met a really fucked-up chick who could make things worse. Not that she'd try to. She's a nice girl. But most of what we do to each other is shit we don't mean to do. Fuck, have I ever learned that in the last few years...

At one point I was talkng about work, and the temp agency. I thought I was pretty calm and balanced, but even what little anger I let out caused exatly the reaction I don't need to see - she seemed to shrink back away from me. Oh no. Not THAT shit again. Just what I need. Another woman who takes every tiny bit of negative emotion I might ever express and somehow convert it into a personal attack on HER. Done that, sweetheart. Yep, a girl with severe daddy issues. Like a big neon-fuck sign. Fuck that. i'm having a hard enough time trying to not fuck up my own daughter's head. Hell, I haven't even got over MY daddy issues, for fuck's sake. Strike two.

Strike three with the Katie Picture Test I referred to last night. She said the right words, "She's very pretty." But it was the least response I've got to a picture of my girl. The black girls at work go nuts over it. Amanda went nuts over it. Jenny was more reserved, but she always is, and I think when she said "She's really cute" three times in a row, that was a pretty good indication of a real response. Guys I show the pictures to like them a lot.

Melinda? The right words. the right look. Nothing behind it at all. Sorry, this is important to me, and I'm sticking with this test. I think that's fair. She didn't fail the test. She just got a D- on it. Not good enough.

She has a car, but her roommate usually drives them to work. Her roommate works at Kroger too. I've seen her. And yes, I had evil little three-way fantasies.

So I took her back to her apartment. Only a couple miles from here, off Thompson Rd., just like me. I checked those apartments out when I first came here, and they were among the better ones I saw.

She gave very little of herself until the end. That was also weird. When we got out of the car and walked to her door, she suddenly turned around and reached out to me. She hugged me. For a full 20 seconds or more. It totally took me by surprise, and I can't say I didn't like it, but it was odd. She has a very warm body. Almost a perfect fit next to mine. Unfortunately, there's little warmth inside, and I actually thought less about Recreational Physcial Activity in that twenty seconds than I was before, and I was thinking less about it all the time. I miss being close to a woman, and right now I can feel her arms around me. I kinda wish they still were, just for the warmth that she did have. But...no, I'd rather not. I'd rather spend half an hour flirting around with Amanda without actually touching her than spend a whole week in Melinda's arms. I think that says it all about as strongly as I can say it. It would be nice and warm. But so is my blanket. And my blanket doesn't fold itself up and crawl into a corner when I'm pissed off at somebody else 25 miles away. Maybe I'm just focusing on my intense desire not to go apeshit over the first girl who pays attention to me (you know, like I went apeshit over Jenny) but I think I mostly just don't want this girl.

But it was nice in a strange way. She said nothing the whole time. Just hugged me. Then, still holding onto me, she looked up, with some hair in her face. She looked happy and sad at the same time.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a girlfriend. I doubt you'll want me for one."

THAT was fucking weird. What she said, but mostly the way she said it. It wasn't self-depreciating. It wasn't "I hate myself." It was "I'm broken and you can't fix me."

"But I do like you. You're the first guy I've been out with in a year. You're the nicest guy I've met in a long time. Thank you."

A little warmth that time. And more than a little neurosis. But she thanked me. For spending time with her. Women never thank me for that. They're too busy reaching for the mace. OK, now I'm getting confused. I DON'T want this girl, but I also don't want to let go of the first girl who has...like fuck I don't. Pull away, Doug. This is NOT the one.

"The first guy in a year? A pretty girl like you?"

"Nobody's asked."

I found that hard to believe. and...easy to believe too.

Shit, I'm not sure about this. I felt really fucking weird the whole time, then she throws this curveball at the end with that hug and those nice words. She leaned back in for a quicker hug, said goodnight, and went inside.

That evil part of me is thinking about the only real reason I have to take her up on meeting up again. She gave me her phone number (she had mine already) and left it wide open, but suggested something vague about seeing her at work again. Didn't even say when she was working next, though I think she'd earlier said something about Sunday night, So maybe I could go by when I get back in town from seeing Katie.

But I only really want one thing now. Take a guess, The thing is, she doesn't exude a drop of sexuality. Which in a weird way makes me more into the idea, but also turns me waaaay off. It's not like someone like Amanda, who can with one smile suggest thirteen new positions and 1001 ways to suck a cock. Amanda probably isn't what most guys think of as being as pretty as Melinda. But she IS pretty, and she DOES know it, and she also is funny and smart and a lot of other things beyond merely being something I'd like to stick my dick into. Melinda might actually be the prettiest girl I've EVER gone out with. But there's a big lesson in here. It really IS what is inside. Amanda's sexuality, Jenny's, most women I've wanted to fuck. It came as much from inside as from out, often even more so. There's a woman at work who has to be twenty years older than me and looks it, but I'd fuck her in a heartbeat, because she is COOL. Great sassy attitude, swears almost as much as I do, likes beer, and can make me laugh. She's got lines all over her, she wears too much makeup, and she's obviously abused herself with some kind of substance (probably whatever the guys watching the game are drinking) but she's sexy in a way that Melinda doesn't get anywhere NEAR. I'd fuck her just to show her how cool she is. Damn, you're fun to talk to. Let me make you come a few times. What are you, sixty years old? Fuck it, I wanna bang the hell out of you. You rock, babe.

I think I'd be really lousy for Melinda. I know she's lousy for me, because I don't feel this way about girls often, and when I do I feel guilty about it.

No, I'm not into this one. I'm gonna sit here and listen to Geddy Lee,. drink some tea, and wax my dolphin. I don't want to use a perfectly nice girl who has issues, I don't want to hurt her, but mostly i'd rather jerk off than fuck someone who has the potential to waste a lot of my time. That sounds cruel. Maybe it is. But I'm not that desparate yet.

Dougie