Ammie called last night. It seems she didn’t make it to Indiana and school on Tuesday having been in a car accident on Monday. No injury, no other cars involved, but Ammie doesn’t have a drivers license, so you can now imagine the fix she is in. We had gone out the last weekend with a blow up of sorts on Sunday, with me saying for about the tenth time whatever we had wasn’t working for me.

So she calls me and tells me she needs me to cheer her up and to build her self-esteem. She had seemed to be in an OK mood when she called and I dutifully said things to make her feel better. She unexpectedly starts to sniffle and cry, I assume it is about the car, but no the car is not the problem, or only problem, or the major problem -- she’s been in love with someone else for over a year. They’d had a breakup a few weeks before and she needs my help in figuring out how to get him back, oh and can I take her out to cheer her up this weekend after all her woes.

I tell her I don’t much care to play Cyrano de Bergerac to her Roxanne then proceed to go ahead and do exactly that. I’m not really playing Cyrano because I know Ammie is not right for me. I demure on the weekend get together, but don’t rule out diner maybe on Sunday. I’m trying not to be a total heel, I like Ammie, but she drives me crazy and is one of the most immature people I know. Trouble is, Ammie is about the only one paying attention to me these days, and when a dateless weekend looms it’s hard to resist the company of a young beautiful lady, immature as she may be. Of course seeing as she has been basically stringing me along for the better part of the last year, I suspect her siren's call will be a little easier to resist.

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1 Comments:

spooky, but I feel a distinct afinity to the above statements. No further comment required...

By Daniel, at April 22, 2005  

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