2:30 AM

I've learned one thing in the past two days that has taken me eighteen years to fully realize. Trust your instincts, Alex. And I don't mean that in a spiritual, pseudo-something-or-other kind of way. If I meet someone and get the sleaze vibe, but hope that the sleaze vibe is due to some sort of malfunction with my internal radar, I SHOULD JUST LISTEN TO MY INITIAL VIBE BECAUSE IT IS CORRECT.

Case in point:

A guy I met through a mutual friend who seemed way more interested in me than I could ever be in him in such a short amount of time. But, liking that someone liked me, I played along. For weeks I played along. Until a few nights ago when I got a text at 2:30 a.m. Mind you, I was sleeping. Peacefully. When my restful sleep was interrupted by the twittering of my cellphone, I was already grumpy. It was only when I read the text that I went far passed grumpy and into the pissed off category.

Sex?

I couldn't believe he was serious. I almost didn't believe the text dancing before my eyes. I will not transcribe the rest of the conversation but I will say that it ended quickly with a "no." The next day I felt incredibly stupid. It was a feeling that would not wash away until my phone twittered once more. A text from him.

Hey

No punctuation. No a period, or an exclamtion point. That was something else I learned through this whole mess -- never trust a person who does not use punctuation! It determines the tone of the sentence. Periods are your friend! However, I digress. I ignored the text message and felt a little more powerful than I had the day before. But then my phone went off again. 

U awake?

Chat speak! He didn't even bother with the other two letters. I'm sure that typing out the entire word "you" was an arduous task and better left undone. Never trust a lazy fingered texter! This time I replied with a simple "Yes." so that he was aware that I was ignoring him.

What's up?

Oh, so this time he bothers with the punctuation! This time he goes through the trouble of finding the freaking apostrophe. Well, fuck him and his apostrophe. 

I think he got the message, because he hasn't texted me back.

Ultimate Digression

My mind can move at a million miles per minute. I cannot stay focused on one idea. My mind feels compelled to jump because it doesn’t want to commit to that thought. To think an entire thought through is a chore. Nothing is finished in my mind. I abandon everything.

            The way my mind works parallels my relationships, my life. When a piece of art has gotten to ugly, I refuse to return to it and fix it. When a monologue is too terrible, I don’t bother fixing it and instead abandon it. When I get a boyfriend in the sixth grade, I dump him within days. Which, in retrospect, was a good choice because he later – well, not that much later – became a drug addict and is currently in and out of jail. But maybe if I had stayed with him, he would not have ended up like that. Maybe he would have made different friends. However, I digress. Talking about James is weird.

            Digression is my problem. It is constantly happening within me. I wish I were like a camera so that I could force myself to focus on something. But I’m on automatic focus, not manual, and I think my wiring is going haywire. I can’t stay focused on something long enough to take a picture. They always come out blurry and, dissatisfied, I move to my next subject.