I'm going to write this down so I can rid my brain of it and get on to the important elements in my life, i.e. advanced logarithms, transcribing my notes on the metaphysical poets, and figuring out a wedding gift for Uncle Mac and Felicia. Oh, and the greatest excitement of the evening: ten new French verbs, two irregular. Big whoop.
The problem is I seem to have Michael Cates on the brain again, And it's not only distracting, it's starting to embarrass me, even in front of myself. The question is, why? Okay, he is not unattractive (okay, he is very attractive), but he is somewhat rude, fairly arrogant, anything but intellectual (a high school dropout?!) with a questionable past, not to mention present, probably no morals or values....Right. Like mine are so fine. Sure, I've got them, but have they ever been tested? How do I know they aren't just language?
Anyway, how to you relate to someone who prefers to be called "Stone" when his real name is Michael? This alone should be a clue we don't inhabit the same wavelength. (Then why does it feel like we do?) It's so obviously a part of his tough-guy, street-kid, macho-cool image. And I told him so.
Maybe this is why he hasn't called.
So, who am I to knock it? I have an image to uphold myself: Robin Devane Scorpio, Thoroughly Excellent. Brilliant student, all-around awfully good girl, dutiful niece, truthful, brave, faithful, and boring. Not ugly but nothing great. I've been told different, but I know what I see. Five feet one inch tall, A-cup that doesn't promise much more. Long, dark hair like my mother's. Eyes like hers too, but without the flash. At least so far.
I have been told I have my father's smile, which wasn't exactly a smile but was about half a grin, with something under it that looked like a secret. Uncle Mac has it, too. I guess it's a Scorpio thing. Unfortunately, I have the look, but not the secret.
At lease not yet. Maybe it will be "revealed to me," but somehow I doubt it, at least the way things are going.
Why am I wasting my time (when I have a French test tomorrow) babbling on paper (which I will type later) about my personal appearance, insecurities, and other trivial issues? Get real, Robin--the only issue on your mind is Michael Cates. Michael "Stone" Cates, who keeps sauntering around in my head, with that put-on cynical cool look and those deep eyes that look right into you as though he knows you probably don't have any answers either.
Later, Verbs digested,
What's really bothering me is my ego, I suppose. After that day at Kelly's. When he specifically said, "Maybe we should do it again, on purpose. When you're not in such a hurry."
He meant have a conversation. My stomach flip-flopped. I guess I expected a call or something. Now I realize he didn't mean it. Stupid me.
Oh, well, we probably wouldn't have enough material for a neat conversation. He said he liked my directness. Ha. Candor may be a fine quality, but it spells death to any male-female relationship. See? It already did.
