Twilight Zone

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You know those television shows where weird stuff happens, and the main character eventually figures out that they’re dead, in a box of animated dolls, or on a spaceship?

Well, at the moment, I’m looking over my shoulder for large ant-like creatures with notepads or something.  I just got a call from Vegeta, the stealth ars who thought our relationship was unhealthy because I’m not Jewish, and I’m about 10 years older than him.

I’d laugh if I wasn’t concerned that maybe this is a sign that he’s suicidal or bipolar and about to crash.  I fought back the urge to say something incredibly mean like, “I’m still not Jewish, and still older than you.”  Maybe he figures enough time has passed that the past doesn’t have to be taken personally, and just wants to make sure we’re cool.  I hope that’s it because I prefer to have honest peace with people.

Again, thanks to Roissy and others, I understand why it happened, and that it’s just a man thing and not a malicious him personally wanting to harm me personally.  It’s no excuse, but if I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to go there more than once.  Since I am older, it was kind of up to me to know better, but I was in some kind of thyroid hormone shortage haze that didn’t allow me to see the reality of the situation.

See, for those who don’t know, arsim and their female counterparts, frechot, are like the popular kids at school and their followers.  Instead of getting over themselves at the end of high school though, they’re kind of stuck there in this world where if you’re not one of them, you’re a nerd, and that actually means something.

Even though technically, by profession and mentality he is a !!!!!!!!!!FLAMING NERD of DOOM!!!!!!!!!!! he dresses and apparently socializes ars.  So he’s like the nerd who hangs out with the popular kids who maybe copy his homework or something.

I don’t know what to think, so I’ll just wait and see what happens.  Maybe he’s trying to decide whether or not he wants to shake off his ass crack acid wash jeans and short shirts, and buy some pants that cover his whole butt.  He’s agreed to meet me in public.  That’s a good sign that I’m in the friend zone, so it should be pretty safe.  However, considering that meeting me anywhere people could see us was a fate worse than death for him only a year ago, it doesn’t help me to worry less.

Maybe this is something he’s doing because his rabbi told him to or something.  I don’t know what it is, but I just want to see with my own eyes that he’s not carving Marilyn Manson lyrics into his arms or something.

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