Bike Trip - Rejection lost in translation
"Oh please. It was a one night stand." As I pedaled through the wild or maybe just the country roads of the glory south I recollected my prior indifference.
"Ha! Exclusivity? I'd not dream of it! We are just talking. When I Ieave for my bike trip this simply can't go on!"
To "Well, I suppose maybe we ought just be girlfriends when I come back"
There's something about being alone in country land where confederate flags wave proudly in the front yards that are few and far between that was making me particularly romanticly inclined and needy feeling. She'd claimed at my return she'd clear her schedule for two days and we'd not leave the house. Tell this to a lad off a dry spell on a bike trip and you'll get unbelievable pedaling responsiveness. I'd be to Cali in a few weeks had the promise of that carried on. She also proclaimed while I was gone she would have to invest in a teddy bear and a vibrator, or perhaps contrive a sock person Karmell. Prior I had just assumed, and semi hoped she would just sleep with other people.
After not seeing a woman with teeth in many days, and after not hearing from the young lass I suddenly liked her ten times more.
Being kept informed was a dire need of mine so that I wasn't stupidly planning and picturing myself popping out of a cardboard box wrapped like a birthday present in my airplane boxer shorts with a bow on my head and a baked potato in my hand, if I had blindly become yesterdays news. As as a result of my request for truth being denied, had I not done some serious prying to find out that we were no longer a thing (for lack of better title), and really gone through with the surprise, it would have probably been met with a single "well thanks, see ya around, I guess" and the door being shut in my face. I have reason to suspect she would have taken the baked potato inside with her and as she thanklessly chomped it, I'd walk away from the house in my boxers with a slumped head and a fool's bow on top of it, red cheeks and my exaggerated frown that makes me look like a chariacture when I'm sad. I'd be sending out mass text messages pleading friends to pick me up and bring me some pants. Its here I may have one of my five minute emotional impulse windows where I typically make the biggest fool of myself. One where I say "I'm not going to take this crap" and I think I'm going to stand up for myself but in actuality I always end up doing something or saying something incredibly melodramatic that would mortify me for years to come. In this case I imagined it would be running back to the door and pounding on it "Look here missy I want that baked potato back!" I would match the words with beat of the knock "You. Hear. Me. I want that baked.. potato. back. this. instance! givity!" Thank God for prying, I got to keep a little bit of pride.
Had I been in the city when I got to the bottom of the mystery I may have considered the last few weeks for an hour, pretended I cared enough to have to go out drinking, just as an excuse to get a little extra shwasties that night, taken home someone else and moved on. Unfortunately biking thirteen hours a day in the deep south, engrained in incredible isolation and loneliness, doesn't provide much distraction and has a funny way of making you linger hard on something that should have been chalked up as an insignificant two-weeker, that wanting answers for would make you a creep.
Women! I was particularly surprised that my new and improved approach to courtship even seemed fallible. "Do whatev, sleep with whoev, be honest". To me it seemed I'd be a pretty easy mistress to have with such a simple motto. Of course I've never had honesty from a woman, but silly me, I thought putting the whatev/whoev before the request for it would change its context entirely and might make a woman feel like she could relinquish defensive mendacity. The trip was too rough as was to incorporate rejection into the mix. "I thought you didn't know if you were feeling it anyway?" it always takes a friend to try to put things into perspective. "Yea, well I changed my mind!" Of course I would be in denial that I was doing the old fashion lesbian indifference until rejected and then infatuated with the idea of winning. Filled with fancy only as a tool to prepare me for the great extremes of competition, in which if I came out with the win would return to a state of unfair indifference, back to a shoulder shrug and a "I could go either way".
I couldn't find anywhere decent to sleep, and I was too jaded to get to the next town. I went into the woods where I laid out my little mexican blanket, and tried to arrange my bag in a way it'd make a comfortable pillow. It started to rain. I started to realize no one was going to be sleeping on my mexican blanket in the woods with me anytime soon. Its a wonder I managed to get a woman to accept the deflating air mattress, and no woman was going to be sleeping in my car with me when I returned to Orlando. "I'm in for another bout of loneliness aren't I?" I thought shivering under my went blanket, the rain pouring down, and my habitat turning into a giant puddle. Just then a massive gust blew my bike over on top of me. I didn't have the energy to move it, I laid there squashed between the mud and the bike. "Mother fucker."
"Ha! Exclusivity? I'd not dream of it! We are just talking. When I Ieave for my bike trip this simply can't go on!"
To "Well, I suppose maybe we ought just be girlfriends when I come back"
There's something about being alone in country land where confederate flags wave proudly in the front yards that are few and far between that was making me particularly romanticly inclined and needy feeling. She'd claimed at my return she'd clear her schedule for two days and we'd not leave the house. Tell this to a lad off a dry spell on a bike trip and you'll get unbelievable pedaling responsiveness. I'd be to Cali in a few weeks had the promise of that carried on. She also proclaimed while I was gone she would have to invest in a teddy bear and a vibrator, or perhaps contrive a sock person Karmell. Prior I had just assumed, and semi hoped she would just sleep with other people.
After not seeing a woman with teeth in many days, and after not hearing from the young lass I suddenly liked her ten times more.
Being kept informed was a dire need of mine so that I wasn't stupidly planning and picturing myself popping out of a cardboard box wrapped like a birthday present in my airplane boxer shorts with a bow on my head and a baked potato in my hand, if I had blindly become yesterdays news. As as a result of my request for truth being denied, had I not done some serious prying to find out that we were no longer a thing (for lack of better title), and really gone through with the surprise, it would have probably been met with a single "well thanks, see ya around, I guess" and the door being shut in my face. I have reason to suspect she would have taken the baked potato inside with her and as she thanklessly chomped it, I'd walk away from the house in my boxers with a slumped head and a fool's bow on top of it, red cheeks and my exaggerated frown that makes me look like a chariacture when I'm sad. I'd be sending out mass text messages pleading friends to pick me up and bring me some pants. Its here I may have one of my five minute emotional impulse windows where I typically make the biggest fool of myself. One where I say "I'm not going to take this crap" and I think I'm going to stand up for myself but in actuality I always end up doing something or saying something incredibly melodramatic that would mortify me for years to come. In this case I imagined it would be running back to the door and pounding on it "Look here missy I want that baked potato back!" I would match the words with beat of the knock "You. Hear. Me. I want that baked.. potato. back. this. instance! givity!" Thank God for prying, I got to keep a little bit of pride.
Had I been in the city when I got to the bottom of the mystery I may have considered the last few weeks for an hour, pretended I cared enough to have to go out drinking, just as an excuse to get a little extra shwasties that night, taken home someone else and moved on. Unfortunately biking thirteen hours a day in the deep south, engrained in incredible isolation and loneliness, doesn't provide much distraction and has a funny way of making you linger hard on something that should have been chalked up as an insignificant two-weeker, that wanting answers for would make you a creep.
Women! I was particularly surprised that my new and improved approach to courtship even seemed fallible. "Do whatev, sleep with whoev, be honest". To me it seemed I'd be a pretty easy mistress to have with such a simple motto. Of course I've never had honesty from a woman, but silly me, I thought putting the whatev/whoev before the request for it would change its context entirely and might make a woman feel like she could relinquish defensive mendacity. The trip was too rough as was to incorporate rejection into the mix. "I thought you didn't know if you were feeling it anyway?" it always takes a friend to try to put things into perspective. "Yea, well I changed my mind!" Of course I would be in denial that I was doing the old fashion lesbian indifference until rejected and then infatuated with the idea of winning. Filled with fancy only as a tool to prepare me for the great extremes of competition, in which if I came out with the win would return to a state of unfair indifference, back to a shoulder shrug and a "I could go either way".
I couldn't find anywhere decent to sleep, and I was too jaded to get to the next town. I went into the woods where I laid out my little mexican blanket, and tried to arrange my bag in a way it'd make a comfortable pillow. It started to rain. I started to realize no one was going to be sleeping on my mexican blanket in the woods with me anytime soon. Its a wonder I managed to get a woman to accept the deflating air mattress, and no woman was going to be sleeping in my car with me when I returned to Orlando. "I'm in for another bout of loneliness aren't I?" I thought shivering under my went blanket, the rain pouring down, and my habitat turning into a giant puddle. Just then a massive gust blew my bike over on top of me. I didn't have the energy to move it, I laid there squashed between the mud and the bike. "Mother fucker."