watermelon memories
Monday, July 19, 2004
  green grass and such
i just finished reading a post by uncle shoe.  in this he made a comment about the grass looking greener and such.  this is something that i've never truly understood.  yet,  have fallen prey too many times. 
not so very long ago, before punkin's arrival, i had what most of my friends would call the perfect life.  by perfect i mean that i had a well paying job that allowed me to flit about the country on someone else's dime.  i had no ties, few responsibilities, and most importantly could  date anyone  i wanted.  or so the story goes.
what my friends failed to see was that this well paying job i had kept me in the office (so to speak) 60 to 80 hours a week.  leaving time for little else.  i did make the most of what time i did have...so don't feel too sorry for me just yet.
and while my dating prospects were many...quantity and quality are two very different things.  take for example the scots man that was training to be  doctor of some variety.  lots of fun, great smile, lovely accent, seemed like the perfect catch (note that i said seemed).  things were great.  we'd gone out a few times for drinks.  he'd cooked dinner for me atleast once.  work hadn't gotten weird.  (key stage left:  drop bomb)  in the middle of what was our first intimate session, he asked me to urinate on him...might i add that turned out to be our only intimate session of any variety.  and for the record, yes work was a smidge weird afterwards.  another example, the seemingly nice young man that bought me a few rounds, engaged in some interesting conversation, and then unzipped...pulled out the unit and asked what i thought.  who does that?  freaks...that's who.

enough about me...
i have this friend.  i'll call her neuro.  short for neurotic cause, well, she is a bit.  now neuro has a husband with a kid or two thrown in for good measure. now if you ask me, her life's not all that bad.  nice house.  nice car that she upgrades every other year or so.  great kids.  job that doesn't require her to live there.  not to mention her husband is a fireman...and not one of those fat ugly one's either.  she is also the first of my friends to verbally abuse me for not...ummm...test driving every car i see.  why?  because she can't.  now the way my mind works, i would think after dozens upon dozens of stories like and worse than the ones listed above she would cut me some slack.  not neuro...nope...uh uh....  somehow she always manages to twist things around so that it is my fault that a) the guy was a freak and b) that i didn't have a more appealing story to tell her.  don't get me wrong, it's a trait i find very endearing in her.  in fact, i'm  waiting for her to come up with a reason or two on how i started the war in iraq.
have we managed to overcome this you're life is better than mine chess match?  not even close.  do i really think the grass is greener in her yard?  not really.  i'm just glad i don't have to mow it.

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tales of my nomadic lifestyle and other meandering thoughts.

Location: a stone's throw from detroit, United States
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