Men are odd creatures. For the most part, they are indecisive and want what they want at the exact moment they want it. Then it's over. Kind of like sex with most the guys I've been with. IRRITATING.
Notwithstanding, I have noticed that men can be incredibly clever. Despite their faults, they have a great way of manuvering things to go their direction. My brother, for example, is wonderfully witty. He uses more words than most scholars I know, and uses them correctly. But what is more amazing about his quick wit is that he can be the biggest asshole but you still can't help but laugh because it's funny. For example, when I was talking to my mom about Ana and Ria (my two personalities. Yes, I am crazy), my brother interrupts and says, "Are you talking about your GON-Ana-Ria?" Get it? Gonorrhea? I don't have it, but it's still funny. Also, you had to be there (I tell a lot of those on dates).
Now, sometimes being the victim of a witty remark is not only funny, but extremely embarrassing and awkward. Take...last weekend for example.
I am in a weird limbo with someone. Apparently I'm a step above "friends" and a step below "girlfriend". I don't know what this means (or I do, and I don't like to be considered a notch on a bedpost), but I do know that when we're together, we act like we're together. Playtime is nice until someone gets territorial.
When he called me to come over to a bar, I said yes and drove over. The company I was surrounded by before leaving were enjoyable, but falling asleep next to someone you care about is much better than waking up next to someone else thinking "WHY. WHY. WHY." Therapist has cautiously advised I avoid these situations. Sitting at the bar and ordering a beer, he promptly starts up talking to someone sitting on his right side, a chef at a nice french restaurant in town. AKA, I'm being completely ignored for a good 15 minutes. I'll give him a slight benefit of the doubt because he had his hand on me the whole time, making sure I knew that just because he had his back turned, wasn't involving me in the conversation, and not once paused to introduce me, that he had not forgotten about me.
I'm going out to have a cigarette, because I don't like being ignored. It felt like middle school again, where the popular kids would invite you over to the table but totally forget you're there. Outside, I start chatting with a guy who is over here on vacation with his brother from South Hampton, England. They drove up and down the coast, saw Yosemite and have just been enjoying themselves. I'm asking him questions like how he liked San Francisco, where did he stay, favorite places to go in Europe--just general questions.
As we move inside because it's cold, we're talking next to my bar seat and still entertaining ourselves when I hear The Certain Someone (TCS) interrupt us, point to me and exclaim, "She has herpes".
Flustered, between shooting infuriated looks back at TCS and apologetic ones to the nice boy from England, I barely manage to stammer out, "I...don't...I don't have herpes. He's a liar. I don't have them. So what was your favorite part about Spain?" This poor boy, my God. He had no idea what to do. He was looking at TCS like "Is he serious?", and then to me thinking "Does she really?". Finally, his brother came over and we finished up the conversation, I stole TCS's seat and started talking to the chef for the rest of the night with my back turned to TCS (of course, I'm short so this does not work so well).
The next morning I asked, "WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THAT SHIT".
"Well, I don't know. I thought it was funny. You were laughing! You should have seen the look on your guy's faces. It was hilarious. But I don't know...I was just kind of marking my territory."
If you're going to lie about my health, can you mark your territory with something a little more curable next time? Thanks.