Based on a French name, true story.
She is full of quotes, she as the source. Tried and true versions are used regularly, punctuating her speech with humor, but also with a noticeable tic - were these words and phrases attempts at humor, or were they there to fill in? Did she have the inability to express anything else? Column A and Column B. Circumstantial usage.
I'm thinking about how these words and phrases charmed me, a year and a half ago, when we first met. I'm surprised that her Quote-ables still charm me.
As a mostly heterosexual female, befriending another female can feel so hazardous. At asinine moments, I find myself literally waiting to speak. Our tales spread on the table like hands in poker - who's got a winning one?
At anxious moments, I feel like I'm on a date. Does she like me? Will she call me back? Is she having fun?
At its best, we hit all that Inner Goddess energy and anything and anybody could happen. Indescribable.
In vapid form, we'll form a roost, a coop of clucking tales, faux-sneers and pointed fingers. Guilt is easier dealt with when shared.
My eyes got heavy quickly at the end of our girl-night-out dinner. What's my tell? Does a sheer membrane envelope, clouding my face with looks of boredom and hostility? Eyes narrowed, cheeks sunken, teeth gnawing at the top lip? Why does this story told in her hyper manner bother me all of a sudden? It would bother me more if she droned. It would bother everybody if we sat there dumbly too. Does anybody pick up my vibe right now, that I'm quickly turning into an asshole? The check isn't here yet, and I've turned from Concerned Female to Annoyed Bitch.
I feel pretty bad about what I'm thinking. I feel pretty bad most of the time. That's a truth. Another truth is, I'd feel worse if I didn't have her around, saying the same little sarcastic prefix or suffix punctuations, yawning-and-talking comfortably, challenging my heart's petty deviations with armchair psychology. I would feel terrible without her or my friends. Terrible.
I'm thinking about how these words and phrases charmed me, a year and a half ago, when we first met. I'm surprised that her Quote-ables still charm me.
As a mostly heterosexual female, befriending another female can feel so hazardous. At asinine moments, I find myself literally waiting to speak. Our tales spread on the table like hands in poker - who's got a winning one?
At anxious moments, I feel like I'm on a date. Does she like me? Will she call me back? Is she having fun?
At its best, we hit all that Inner Goddess energy and anything and anybody could happen. Indescribable.
In vapid form, we'll form a roost, a coop of clucking tales, faux-sneers and pointed fingers. Guilt is easier dealt with when shared.
My eyes got heavy quickly at the end of our girl-night-out dinner. What's my tell? Does a sheer membrane envelope, clouding my face with looks of boredom and hostility? Eyes narrowed, cheeks sunken, teeth gnawing at the top lip? Why does this story told in her hyper manner bother me all of a sudden? It would bother me more if she droned. It would bother everybody if we sat there dumbly too. Does anybody pick up my vibe right now, that I'm quickly turning into an asshole? The check isn't here yet, and I've turned from Concerned Female to Annoyed Bitch.
I feel pretty bad about what I'm thinking. I feel pretty bad most of the time. That's a truth. Another truth is, I'd feel worse if I didn't have her around, saying the same little sarcastic prefix or suffix punctuations, yawning-and-talking comfortably, challenging my heart's petty deviations with armchair psychology. I would feel terrible without her or my friends. Terrible.