E.T. Vs. Soccer Mom
The Model left on Monday for an entire month. She will be spending her winter break, Christmas and New Years translating German into English for a ski resort HERE .
The place she calls home here is a farmhouse that has no phone, centralized heat and she has to walk a couple of kilometers to get to the nearest general store type gas station. From her description this is the German version of a very frozen Gilligan�s island in the middle of the Bavarian forest.
My declaration of un-provoked love apparently rattled her quite severely. No sooner had she hopped a flight to London than I received some rather curious phone calls from some of the homey�s. It appears that she had broached the subject with anyone that would listen, including those I did not tell about my feelings, and since it is very hard to say no to this particular woman, everyone listened. The reviews and feedback were not kind. Oddly enough, virtually nothing had changed between us and no mention of the subject has come up since it was initially mentioned. I plan on pressing her while she is away to let her air her feelings on it and get it over with so she can move on. Funny how the one that doesn�t claim to want, need or return the love I offered is the one that has the most problem with it. Despite my melancholy feelings, I am the one that is least effective.
Chicks are weird.
In a bizarre turn of events, the English Teacher wigged out and disappeared off my radar with more skill than a B-2 bomber. No friggin idea what brought this out, but glad it happened. Seeing as how we have very little social interest in common, the ideas of what in hell I was going to do when I went out in public places with her was a huge question I no longer need to answer. No rhyme or reason for her sudden hasty departure on Saturday and not real contact since other than a few choice words of �not a good week, finals�. Another line item added to my recent laundry list of disastrous dating endeavors.
Chicks are really weird.
Soccer mom�s suck, right? Well apparently this statement is mostly true and open to interpretation. As a general rule of thumb, the soccer mom motive as a mental image disgusts and horrifies me. Mini-vans bearing down on me with way too many screaming kids, exhausting fuel and food for status points and urban acceptance in a world that I have never been able to understand. I loathe the existence of these entities and do my best to ruffle their feathers whenever I possibly can.
There are known exceptions to every rule, of this we all know. And I for one thoroughly enjoy finding and have some sort of cursed gift for locating the most extreme cases whenever I possibly can. My soccer mom drives a two door sports car, prefers drinking beer with the boys on Friday nights to movie night with the rest of the neighborhood mommies and when not around her children she has a mouth of a sailor and the soul of a devil, with a smile to match.
The good news? She is a dedicated mother and her social time is severely limited because of her kids. The better news? She is totally enjoys the intellectual properties of my personality and doesn�t look even close to the 34 years that is stated on her drivers license. The best news? She is a filthy, sexual fiend who wants me to fuck her on the hood of her sports car. Should I, Could I, Would I?
Man, chicks are really, really weird.
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