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Monday, July 12, 2004

Y’all deserve an explanation.

I met this girl, you see? Now, you’re goig to think this is stupid, but know, it’s real. It was one other day in which I was moping about how everybody talks straight through me and the whole world seems so two-dimensional and how I just want to go home and play Sonic Heroes until I die... and then I met her.

She’s stumpy at about five foot six and has scraggly pink hair. Her boy shirts belie her beauty and her cargo pants make her look very tough. She approached me and, dear Lord, talked right at me. I swear. One person in Leticia’s life speaks on the same frequency as she does. As you might have guessed, I fell in love.

Oh, but not real love. Don’t take it too seriously, it was more of a, dear God let’s run off to a cottage in Alaska and make lots of babies kind of love. I suppose real love is the kind where you don’t want to run off to Alaska, you want to savor every moment at home cuddling and watching a movie that neither of you care about because it was just an excuse to cuddle and distract him enough to get some prime seduction in.

One problem, with the initials NA. She’s a recovering drug addict. One more thing (and dear God she’s going to kill me if she ever reads this): she seems incapable of reading people. I find this right fascinating. She has no concept of tact, nor of figuring out what other people are feeling. Wouldn’t we be a great pair? Woman who deconstructs her friends to death meets woman who takes your expression at face value. We could have lots of babies.

More than that though, and this is where it gets weird... she offered to have sex with me. No, no, no! Let me type that again. The wench devilishly tricked me into wanting to have sex with her. Yes! That’s the idea. I did not have sexual attraction to that woman. What? Depends on your definition of "is." I’m going now...

(Leticia trots off before Suzy yanks her back on stage)

Seriously though, it was terrifying because I really did want to get in her pants, and I felt really bad about it because I never feel that, being generally a sexless person who feels strong attraction to nobody but her vibrator. I was ready to throw my clothes off and have a go regardless of circumstance. (I really do like boys!) But moreover...

Okay, here’s how it happened. We started talking, and suddenly, I started animating. This also never happens. We loved talking to each other. We lit up. Remember how I said the world felt flat and two-dimensional? She seemed to emanate past what I saw of her, like she existed in all three dimensions, or maybe four dimensions. "I really like you!" I said, breathlessly, giving her a hug. "We should do something sometime."

And then...

Silence.

A good fifteen seconds of it. "Like what?" she asked me, with a wicked grin. No! I meant, like a movie! I didn’t know what to say, since what I was thinking was, you know, it would be great to be friends, we could go for walks in the park and eat ice cream and please, please, don’t let my libido take over because I could easily ruin a really great relationship.

So eventually I did the standard Leticia Maneuver (laugh and say, "I’m so nervous!") and she told me, straight up, that she knew what I was thinking, and that she was thinking the same thing, but if we’re afraid to say it, maybe we ought to take it slow.

There you go, folks. One three-month relationship condensed into half a minute. Jesus.

I collected my bearings, told her that she was very honest and that was a good thing, and I got the hell out of there. No, I just went to talk to a counselor for a good long while before going back into the heat of passion. No, no, no! I was just terrified by what had happened and afraid to look at her again, lest I be sucked into her dark world of drugs and sex.

So we exchanged phone numbers and I did tell her, honestly, that I wanted to be friends and that when I said that we should do something sometime, I didn’t mean sex. We parted ways and all was good, until...

She didn’t call.

To all of those attracted to womenfolk who are reading this... while you do not call, the other party is tearing her fucking hair out. Call within the next few days if you intend to see your woman friend with all her hair intact.

Anyway, this woman was blunt. She told random passersby of her status as a sexual being and how she is lonely, but isn’t really interested in a relationship, but is, in a lonely, cautious sort of way. And... she wanted me, really badly, which is where y’alls come in.

What the hell do I do? After thinking it over, I have realized, sadly... I like her for who she is, but I’m not attracted to her body. I’d rather us dance and play and cuddle and share our lives rather than hook up, because... and this hurts to say... it would be a lie to her, a chance to get in bed with somebody, anybody, whose company I enjoy. I really need somebody with whom I can get into a stable relationship.

But dear lordy, I didn’t expect this to bore into my brain all weekend the way it did. The whole time, my brain hurt with the passion of a thousand suns thinking about this woman and how badly she needed me and how badly I needed not to need her... but that would be a lie too, because she’s the only woman I’ve ever met who seems on my level... I’d like to meet a boy like that.

Where do I meet boys, anyway? Is there a Manfolk Emporium somewhere that I don’t know about? ("How much is that boy-thing in the window?") I would rather sit at home and mail-order them from the factory, but it seems Leticia will have to pull herself up from underneath her pile of schoolbooks to be with those of the male persuasion.

Anyway, I have to get to dinner... but I needed this out of my head. I feel like I just adopted a druggie, which is a really condescending way to put it, but I do... I’m not sure how much I can do for her. (Moral of the story: all I can do is be her friend; learn this well.) Let’s see how it all works out, on the next chapter of As the Blog Refreshes. Stay tuned!
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