But Still You’re Surprised When I Eat You
Colin just texted me. Once again, it’s been a full 30 hours since my fumbling attempt to make him call me, just to nestle you snugly in a context. Get ready.
It’s almost insulting. Like, if you are going to wait one million years to text me back, can you be bothered to at least have a cohesive fucking thought? If that’s the universe’s way of telling you to enjoy yourself, than this must be your way of telling me your just not that into me.
Colin is a fake name. This is the fun part, or one of the fun parts. Inventing the names. Ever looked at the names of the Essie Nail Polishes? So inventive! There is someone somewhere who’s paid to be high on enamel fumes that thinks pale, peachy-beige is evocative of a “Power Lunch.”
Colin wasn’t a hard name to come up with, because someone called him that once by accident and it was surprisingly spot on, with his chlorine-blue eyes and dirty-brown hair and faint, barely-there freckles. He looks exactly like a Colin, but isn’t named that. His actual name is way more Tigerbeat, of course. This other one took me a little time to come up with, though, but it fits (you should try this super rewarding pastime of re-naming all the people you know with the names they look like). Meet Adam:
Adam is the guy who I have been having sex with while Colin is in TN. If you didn’t hate me already for naming my tumblr “Welcome to Being Pretty” then I don’t think you really give a shit that I am complaining about being in love with one guy while semi-secretly fucking another while he is out of town.
I’m thinking of cutting Colin off. I may do it tonight, depending on how I feel. There are two conversations that can be had. There’s the “Hey, I’ve been making you a mixtape, do you have any feelings like that about me?” confrontation, which, albeit the healthier-sounding option could result in a devastating “No.” Or it could go differently, but something in my bones tells me I’ll be listening to the Cranberries either way, and at th end of the day does it really matter whether you’re listening to Linger, Dreams or Free to Decide? You’re still suffocating reality on some level.
The other conversation, which I am leaning towards, is the email that simply and abruptly lets him know it’s over, and that I value his friendship. He can be relieved or confused, but I won’t have to deal with it, and I’ll still be a maneater. Win win win! Except it can’t really be called a conversation.
Meanwhile, Adam warrants his own post.
