100 Word Challenge: Unlisted Numbers

There’s nothing peculiar or untoward about it. She moved to the city for anonymity, and “the world is your oyster” youthful excitement.

She singsong delivers a carbon-copy greeting to her doorman each day,

“Good morning, Benjamin! How are you today?”

Breezing out the front door, the blue-gray sky and high-rises feel like donning a gauze veil.

[Ding]

“I can see your building from my balcony.”

The phone number is unrecognizable sending her summer skin shivering, her senses to full alert, and sprinting back to her place to grab protection. She has an inkling. Better safe than sorry.

**************************

The word is Peculiar.

So thrilled Tara from Thin Spiral Notebook took over the reins of 100 Word Challenge. A little rusty in the creative writing department, but my goal is to push through the discomfort and begin again!

The Lunch Date: You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'

I don’t know about her, but I am pretty sure I have.

If you happened to peruse yesterday’s post about a lunch date, this is the followup, which went pretty much as expected.

[Here’s some insider info about me: When I know I am going to see someone I like, I am almost giddy with anticipation. I am excited. I can’t wait! If I know you well, be prepared for several warm hugs and, most likely, a snuggle on your cheek (I am a very affectionate person.).]

I was dragging my butt getting ready. I had a small pit in my stomach. More importantly, I felt  mostly nothing.

There was a mediocre fondness upon sight. The greeting was lukewarm at best. The hug was cursory.

Upon brief glance around the apartment, she pronounced the “new love nest”, in which I have now lived for one and a half years, “wide open” and “I bet the view is nice in the summer.”

I had previously made reservations at a delectable restaurant, in part, because I didn’t want to hear her bitch then or later that the food or service sucked, which she is wont to do. We ordered a glass of wine, (Yeehaw! Man, I needed one.) and after several questions about menu items and ingredients (her's, not mine), we placed an order.

We talked about her lake house and its renovations, how difficult and exhausting it is maintaining two home (her main and lake), dermatologists, her dog and travel. [Yawn!]

She must have needed to catch her breath because she asked for an update on my kids. I briefly told her about my daughter’s new-ish job, to which she said, 

“Didn’t you tell me this before Christmas?” 

“Yep, I sure did.” She was listening!

I provided a one sentence synopsis of my son’s life then promptly shut up. She followed with an additional multiple minutes long overview of both her kids.

[Blogger's $.02: If you have to do a fairly major life update when you talk with someone, you are an acquaintance not a close friend.]

Here's the pièce de résistance?

The bill came so I grabbed for it to do the quick division. She never flinched or made a move in the direction of her wallet. So I said,

“I got it.”

To which she exclaimed, 

“THANKS!”

As the monies were being exchanged, she mentioned she had been running late and didn't have time to stop at the ATM. 

"Do you have cash for the valet ($14 + tip)? I'll take you home so you don't have to take a taxi." 

What just happened here?

If I wasn’t so numb, I’d be pissed, but this is typical, and what it is like being friends with her, and why she is fodder. 

I can confidently put a check mark next to “Took the high road.” (though it cost me about $75). I can be thankful for the friends that do care about me and know my kids. Most importantly, I can move on without guilt.

I’ve lost that lovin’ feeling and it’s gone, gone, gone, whoa-oa-o…

But it still makes me sad.

Writing About People You Know IRL

So this resides on my desktop, which means I look at it almost daily. I guess I use it as inspiration for lamenting; I mean writing.

I would not consider myself the world’s nicest person, but I am extremely kind, compassionate and diplomatic. Must be the balance of being a Libra if you believe in such things. Anyway, I find it so hard to write about real life, the things that aggravate, frustrate, piss me off. I am mortally afraid someone (God only knows who because I am not aware that anyone I know outside the blogosphere reads here, if that.) will read this and think I’m talking crap about them. It frightens me. Then again, I could point directly above and say, “See, it’s you not me!”

Talking trash used to be easier when I had a creative outlet. Gosh darn you, Trifecta. Oh how I miss you! I could write a story and slap the label “FICTION” on it. I used it to cover my “real life” ass more times than I will admit.

Now, I feel stuck.

It’s like the emails I get from work on a regular basis. There are 200 divers at the aquarium, but, I swear, every reprimand that is issued I consider personally. I rethink my last work shift sifting through my actions and behavior trying to figure out if I somehow was the violator! It’s insane, but I think it must cross everyone’s mind. Yes?

Where is this whole thing going?

I have never thought of myself as passive-aggressive, but watch THIS!

To the person I have always considered a friend who talked smack about me (and my besties) recently to a hair dresser who also does the hair of someone else I know and works out at the same gym, who in turn couldn’t have told me fast enough. Yeah, your opinion of me got around. 

There are three things I do not talk about, in general. Religion, politics, and money. It’s been a good rule. I am not going to attempt to change your opinions and you may or may not change mine. I don’t enjoy debating these subjects, but you do, and just because I don’t doesn’t make me a person lacking depth or that my conversations are not intellectual enough, which is pretty much what you said. I do not talk about handbags, shoes, clothes or houses either. 

Hit me up about literature, art, big city living, theater, movies, fitness, food, travel (obscure and simple). Ponder thoughts with me on religion, politics, materialism, and commercialism. Don’t ram them down my throat. I have opinions, strong ones too. Like on gun control! I would be happy to engage in mutually satisfying, stimulating and intelligent conversation endlessly, that is, if I could ever get a fucking word in edgewise. 

Maybe you’ll read this before we have lunch tomorrow so I am not tempted to tell you this in person. Who am I kidding; I won’t. I’d rather be passive-aggressive. Sometimes it’s easier then calling out a one-time friend. 

Or maybe I will just label this "FICTION".

Yeah Write Micro-stories: Attrition

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To the forwarded reservation confirmation she replied, 

“PENNED IN!!!”.

“Me, too. So excited.”

(Note: Exclamation marks missing from my response.)

The rub? A date is a date. Knowing this, she’ll make me explain why I’ve been avoiding her. That’s a tough one.