Jan 10th, 2005, 03:02 PM
no it's ok, oao can post his thing in this thread. He fits the FRUSTRATING bit to hell so I don't mind.
Last time I was gonna tell you all about this other girl from english class but today on the way home (make a mental note) I remembered this other story which takes priority because of the FRUSTRATION involved. It's called HELM VS HELM-WITH-PENIS and it made me vomit.
So ok hey guys listen up. Have you ever watched french expressionistic films where people walk across plazas in black and white silently, or gaze at each other in bars as total strangers and then say "Is it not life...?" and the other guy with a berett on goes "Qui, qui mes it is." before she blows her cigarette smoke in his mouth by kissing him or something? Ok if you haven't I think I explained the mood of these films enough so you can pretend you've seen them. Seriously, you're not missing anything. That's it. Anyhow, I've had such a moment once, one of the few movie moments of my life and I'm going to share it with you. Bastards.
Ok this one's recent, it happened about 7 months ago and my hair is real long. Now, the reason I am not posting a lot of stuff about my more recent life is because in the last two years of my life I've abstained from sex by choice. So there's not much to tell. Basically a few cases where someone approaches me with romantic interest and I gently turn them down. Nothing really worth telling. The reasons I'm abstaining are longwinded and philosophical and I ain't gonna try to explain them all to you 'cause I'm not trying to get you into bed but the gist of it is: 'I want to be free. The mating instinct (amongst the other instincts) obstructs this attempt at freedom. Deny the instinct to gradually defeat it.' Ok you know enough to understand the rest of this story.
I'm on the athens underground railway, waiting for the train home, as I have to every day after school. The ride from and to is about 1 and a half hour, so I have a few cds to listen to, also a book or magazine to keep myself doing something. So as I struggle to take a cd out of the diskman, replace it in it's case, take another cd out of it's own and put it in the diskman with one hand (kinda difficult) this gorgeous pretty lady walks down the stairs. Now, I've mentioned that I am kinda picky maaaybe maybe too picky but anyway, she was amazing. Brunette, smart eyes, pretty smile, nice figure, you know this doesn't do any justice to anybody. Would you like to be described from head to toe put an adjective in there coma coma list list period there you are. It doesn't work that way. She had something that I really liked about her and if I would dissect her into her segmented pieces (as much as I'd like that) and took each of them and made special, special love to it, it wouldn't be the same as savagely penising the whole of her so you know the type I'm talking about. Irritatingly beautiful, yet not stuck-up, not stupid-looking either oh gosh my formatting sucks. I'll change paragraph here even if it doesn't make any sense.
And the way she looked around it seemed pretty obvious that she was aware of the world around her in at least a more acute way that most stupid people and that's very sexy you know? People understanding people is sexy. Yup. I don't know how much you would agree but I think it is so. So, oh here's the correct place to paragraph but oh well. She's looking around, settles with her back against me. I'm shamelessly inspecting her as much as I can, because as the city life will tell you, you take your pleasures where you can. The particular city road I have to travel through every day is ridden with the worst kind of urban horror you can imagine. It's called 3rd of September and the people in it, we've dubbed September people. Women with burned faces, old junk addict ladies with mini-skirts and emaciated-thin legs, guys with faces made of three different colours, and a lot of cops. So after seeing all the dirt down-town Athens has to offer every day for 2 years, you take your pleasures where you can.
The interesting thing is that, although I am being a total leering bastard, she's doing these cute 'hmm I'm looking around what an interesting subway station" circles around herself every minute or so to look back at me (ok I could have been wrong, but I'll stick to my story until there's some reason not to FUCK YOU). I guess the fact that I was looking at her in a completely resigned manner, not doing a zoolander "I love you" face, but not playing disinterested either, she must have translated that into me being confident. The fact of the matter is I wasn't even prepared to consider that one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life could be interested in me.
So, as I'm starting to realize the little circles are about me, I'm starting to have an INNER STRUGGLE or amazing proportions. My self-doubt, along with my sense of ethics are battling my sexual urge and curiosity over whether I should go talk to her or not. So now, if it were just my ethics fighting the good fight, I'd be leaning towards no more, but as I realize that there's self-doubting translating into fear of rejection, I get mad at myself since I'm trying to be free, not scared. So I'm in a position where if I go to her, I've lost to my instinct, and if I don't, I've lost to my fear. The way I thought about handling it after a few moments of tremendous hidden turmoil is, that I'd go up to her and introduce myself, make a little small talk and then tell her that I find her so amazingly irritatingly cute, but I wouldn't like to persue my urges and goodbye or something. That way, I've shown myself I'm not afraid, and also, I haven't gone against my will to remain a celibate JERK. By the time I've discussed all this with helm, she's replied to a phonecall (the cell phone was kind of a turn-off) and has started walking towards the other way of the station. Apparently, she wasn't doing the circles to look at me, but to look for whomever she was talking to. Defeat. Dispair. Doom. Obviously, it was her boyfriend on the phone, 'cause no woman like that would get to be alone for even one second of her life, and I was a loser talking to himself in his head too fast for comfort. I take a good look at her rear as she walks away, and hey, blame me, assholes.
The train comes, I board it, I put on Maudlin of the Well and think of her a bit. I decide that if I ever see her again I should definately talk to her. Go ahead with my plan or something. Although I was starting to suspect that if I did, I wouldn't be able to keep promises ever 'cause she was so pretty. End of the line, off the train, going to the square to pick a cab for the last 30 minutes of my ride home. Yes, it takes me 2 hours to go to, and back from school. You get used to it.
I find a cab, settle in the back 'cause there's some yuppie jerk in the front that 'hmm' considered it if my route was convinient for him (IT WAS) for 1 minute before okaying the cabbie, and listen to my music. By now I've almost have gotten her out of my mind.
Not 100 meters from where I got on-board, the cabbie is hailed again and pulls over to pick up more customers. It's her, and her (also very pretty from the 2 seconds I looked at her as she got in) friend. She practically sits on my lap as we try to fit in in the back. I automatically say hi to her, and that I saw her in the station and she goes 'oh right yeah' and smiles at me. I look at her for a second or so. My reflex was to introduce myself, but I supressed it due to the cabbie, and the yuppie yucky guy being in there (her friend I didn't mind so much. Elementary school is all about training to go up to girls with their girlfriends around and asking them to dance while their girlfriends supress their giggling). So I don't. I turn my head back slowly and I fix it at the head-rest on the cabbie's seat. I am thinking about a lot of things now, only they don't want to stand in line and get tackled one at a time. I flex my fingers, I snap them (bad habbit) and I generally do my nervous routine. She's talking to her friend (she has a pretty voice too) about random things their studies and whatnot. The other girl mentions her name in replying to her. I am cataloguing everything. I am the sick twisted little OAO in my head that goes 'ANSWER THE QUESTION" every time something they say relies on insider knowledge to make sense of. I am cataloguing. I am judging. I am the GREAT WATCHER. The great watcher is also very nervous. If this were a jim carrey movie, I'd be tossing myself out of the speeding cab and going "bye bye, dead-wood" in a comical voice by now. 2 minutes later, the yucky yuppie guy arrives at his TOTALLY ON ROUTE destination and pays and leaves and good fucking riddance. Then I tell the cab to wait a moment, 'cause I'd like to sit in front for the comfort of the girls. Yeah. I did that. Yup. She goes "oh we don't mind" and I go "it's ok" and open the door. Yeah. Yup. I go sit in front.
They talk, I listen, they laugh, I nervous, she steals looks at me in the mirror, I sigh, cabbie drives. I make my fucking decision. They arrive at their destination, get off, say goodbye, we say goodbye, she looks at me, we drive off.
By now, I'm a nervous wreck. I am feeling totally elated and totally stupid and totally CHEMICALLY IMBALANCED and I want to break things, my arm, the cabbie or all the pretty panda bears in the world it doesn't matter it will do.
The cabbie turns to me and he says "What's wrong with you, man? Why didn't you talk to her? She dug ya and everything!"
I manage to mutter that "here is fine" and yes here's your money no keep the change. I walk the way home.
By the time I'm inside the house, I have a huge migrane and I feel like I swallowed a penis. I vomit and take a depon and lie on the couch. It's fucked me up, most of all that I made that mental promise of talking to her if I see her again, and then when the really improbable happened, not doing it. I feel like a real ass for betraying myself, and frankly pissing on an apportunity for getting to know what seemed like a GREAT girl for my stuck-up ethics.
Later on, I realize I made the right choice, no matter how hard it was at the time, and that being a boring fuck is after all, what I've CHOSEN for myself and not what just 'felt right'. Doesn't feel any better, but then, why should it? I don't sleep much that night, although I'm totally over it by morning.
Can't go to the train station anymore without subconsciously positioning myself in the exact same spot as that time anymore though, and I always scan the ladder every other moment.
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