The older I get, the less I can suffer dumb people. I think that by the time I'm 65 I'm going to be the crotchiest (yes, it's a word, shut up) old lady ever.
Not that 65 is that old...my mother would kill me if she heard me say that. I'm also afraid that I got my vanity from my mother but...that's another discussion entirely.
Let's get back to my story... Lauren and I went out to have a drink the other night. Nevermind that one drink inevitably turned into five or six...that's inconsequential. The important and surprising part about the story is that we actually had intelligent conversations. In Monterey. With men! For reals!
So I think that's why the one drink turned into several. It's not very often that people understand my humor, my sarcasm or just general conversation. You know, the whole "something-outside-of-oneself" doesn't really exist in this town. It's also not the norm for conversation to be only that, conversation. No ulterior motives, no creepiness, no stepping over the lines. It was nice.
Something really hit home that night... I would rather be alone than be with a beautiful Abercrombie model who is dumb as a rock. I've known this about myself for a long time now but I tried to overlook it for a short time last year because, well, my norm wasn't exactly panning out for me. I thought, 'Hey, how about you look outside of the box and get off of your high horse, little missy'. So, I did. And that lasted about one month. And I'm still shaking my head.
Main life lesson there: In theory, if they just keep their mouth shut then you're golden. You have something really pretty to look at. In reality, they never keep their mouth shut. Then you have someone to stare at incredulously while you try to figure out just where in the hell they came from.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment