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i like being hit on.

damn, ego - do you remember it? does it feel as good as it used to? i think it feels even better, what with all the crap that has been going on.

of course, i had to ask, "was that woman hitting on me?" and i'm still not so sure. she was engaging me in conversation that was, to me, kinda dull and pointless, but question after question...including questions regarding my place of residence, my habits, my hobbies. are you trying to "get to know" me? are you eating that cookie in a certain way in order to arouse me? i'm clouded by red wine and too much oily antipasto...i can't tell what exactly it is that you ARE doing.

two days later, i follow you into a store. by accident. i told you that i live above this store, and look - there you are. buying four bottles of water, unrefrigerated. you see me, but i stare at the cans of cat food. ash content, ash content ah! there it is. stare stare. don't make eye contact. then you'll have to acknowledge an association. you don't want that. especially since you're dressed in frumpy fat clothes. ACK!

**so not attracted to this rather ghoulish woman. though she IS wearing a leather coat, so now i think 'maybe she IS a dyke after all...eew, one of those dykes with super-long hair, braided down their back.' so not attracted.**

but BE ATTRACTED TO ME, dammit.

please please please....someone?