People as Cuneiform

I think I’ve completely lost my ability to read people.  Well, maybe not completely.  The people I know pretty well, I can still read them just fine.  But since I do know ’em well to start with, I don’t even think I should count it.  It’s the people I only kind of know.  I can’t read them to save my life.  And maybe it has to do with some other large mitigating factors.  Man…do I even want to dive into this right now?  Yeah…  Yeah, I think I do.

First and foremost, I don’t trust people anymore.  Practically none.  I’ve always been paranoid (as has been well documented in this space in the past), but it reaches new levels these days.  I can never tell if people are making fun of me.  I suspect people of talking about me behind my back, the people I consider my friends I mean (and this is all exclusively at work, which also probably has tons to do with it…Sears is a fucking gossip grinder that’s second to none).  I have absolutely no reason to suspect any of the other guys have any reason to not like me.  But I still sometimes get the feeling I’m a joke to ’em.  It’s a feeling I can’t shake, and I don’t know why.  And, to tell the truth, I don’t much care if I am a joke to most of them.  Augie and Justin are about the only two whose opinions really matter to me. 

Justin I see as kind of a kindred spirit.  He’s an artist….painting, sculpting, ceramics, all that.  He gets made fun of (not in a serious way, of course) by the rest of the guys.  It’s like he struggles with being both the tortured soul artist and the tough, strong, cool guy.  Really, he balances the two perfectly.  I’m quite jealous of it, actually.  Then again, I’ve never exactly been tough, strong, or cool.  Just the tortured soul writer.  Augie (who is my boss despite being three years younger than me) thinks I’m hilarious.  He and I have a comedy bit where we talk like two stuck up rich dudes ("Jeeves!  Get me my caviar out the ashtray of my Jaguar!" or "You, sir!  Are you here to mow my yard!"  Augie is Mexican, and makes more jokes about yardwork and construction on himself than everyone else combined).  He says I should go into comedy, which proves he’s an idiot.  I’m incredibly envious of him, though.  This guy could get pretty much any girl at work (and has gotten quite a few of them….and refused plenty of others), or just about anywhere else.  I’m secure enough in my manhood to admit that he’s a good-looking guy.  I just find it ridiculous some of the things he manages to get himself into.  Since I’ve known him (October of last year), he’s been convinced he’s found "the ONE" girl no less than four times, including his current girlfriend (one I told him to stay away from……he made her sound slightly insane when he first told me about her….she’s hot as hell, though, so I can understand it).  He gets into messy breakups, uncomfortable meetings between currents and exes, old flames trying to buy him back…you name it, Augie has been into it.  To him, I’m like a therapist.  He tells me pretty much everything related to his female situation, and I try my best to work him through it.  And I’ve also been counseling one of his exes….

That would be Ashley.  She and Augie had a weird ass, messy ass break up (very long story about another ex lying about being pregnant with his kid and such…..I told you, he gets into all kinds of shit).  Of course, I heard his side of the tale that made Ashley look pretty much psychotic.  A few weeks later, I was talking to Ashley, and she could see I was tip-toeing around the subject of Augie and asked me what he had told me.  As I spoke, she rolled her eyes and let out tons of heavy sighs.  She then told me her side of everything (which basically filled in the cracks he left which had caused her to look nuts).  I then told her, "What could expect though?  He’s a master player."  She got mad at me for this and asked why I hadn’t told her that before she started going out with him.  As if my saying so would’ve looked as though I was watching her best interests.  I know exactly what she would’ve thought.  She would’ve thought I wanted her for myself and was making shit up about him, which was the last thing on my mind (physically, I’m not attracted to her at all….mentally…well……I’ll put it this way:  conversation is very easy because she’s a talking, I’m a listener, and she’s actually kind of interesting).  I called bullshit on her, that she wouldn’t have believed me.  She swears she would’ve.  Anyway….

Where was I going with this?  Oh, right.  Not being able to read people….  Ashley fits into this perfectly (among others).  I talked to her today for probably damn near an hour straight (again, she likes to talk, and I have an easy time just standing there and nodding or chuckling at her stories).  We’ve actually talked before about how we could never date each other (not in those words, but I’ve said "no one under 23" while she’s 21 and she’s talked about setting me up with friends of hers…sooooo….yeah…..that’s what these things mean, I know that much).  I keep straying from the point here.  What I’m getting at is, there were a couple of times today that I could swear she was actually interested in me (saying things like, "I’d like to date an older guy just once, but not someone in their 30’s" knowing full well how old I am.  I closed that door later, though, by talking about how I know I’m horrible boyfriend material because I’m selfish, self-centered, lazy, directionless, and I hate going out (because I know she loves to go out drinking or whatever, not that I said it for that reason alone….I really just don’t care to go out places).  What I’m trying to get around to is that I couldn’t read her intentions in the conversation.  In fact, I can’t read any of the females at work.  Are they being courteous because they have to?  Is there actually an interest there?  I have no clue.  I am, literally, clueless.  So, yeah.  I can’t read people anymore.

I knew there was a full circle in there somewhere.  It’s a pretty curvy circle, though, as long as it took me to make it back to this point.  Sheesh.

I learned something from Ashley today, too.  She gave me the answer to the age old question, "Why are females attracted to jerks?"  She said it’s so they can have something to complain about to their friends.  Like, competing to see who has it the worst.  This was all news to me.  And I think it explains why I have such a hard time with females.  Why?  Because I asked her this question, to which the answer was, "Yeah, pretty much."  The question:  "So, are you telling me that there are tons of girls out there who are afraid of the Perfect Guy?"  Shocking…..both the answer to that, and the fact that I just complimented myself.  Zing!  Seriously, though.  I found that incredibly interesting, though probably not a universal truth.  Just seems that way since it came from a female.  Credibility and such, y’know?

Now Playing in Dave’s Mental Jukebox:  "Quote" by Evans Blue, "Remember the Name" by Fort Minor, and "Tension" by Nural

While I’m on the subject of people at work, let me also mention Dewayne.  He’s only 16 years old, but works the opening shift because he’s homeschooled.  He just kind of started hanging around my office shortly after he started working at Sears in November.  I’ve kind of taken him under my wing, acting as a big brother-figure for him.  I give him relationship advice (the kid is fucking engaged…engaged!  He’s 16, she’s 15!  It’s nuts!), which almost always turns out to be the correct advice, by the way.  He knows more about my past than anyone else at work.  He also knows about the story I’ve been working on, because he’s walked into my office as I’ve been writing a few times.  Today he pulled the notebook out of my desk and started reading it, despite me repeatedly telling him to wait until it was done.  He read a few pages and just went, "What the fuck, man?  Did all this actually happen?"  So I proceeded to tell him how the first portion of the story was mostly reality, but that it deviated quite a bit as the story progressed.  He asked me how much of the rest of the story was really true (he thought I was lying about making parts of it up, as it seemed too real, I guess) so I told him I took small (or large) things and placed them into the context of a much larger fiction.  He doesn’t really understand the concept of creative writing, so I think I confused him with that one.  But now he wants to finish reading just as bad as anyone else.  Even me.  I’ve hit a stalling point trying to figure out exactly how much of what Darin said will be covered in Ayme’s rebuttal.  I don’t want to go over the entire story again, but, then again, it would only seem right.  I think the problem is that I know precisely how I’m going to end it, and I’m in a hurry to get there now.  I’ve been saving the ending of the story, but if I don’t tell I’m gonna burst…

Therefore….if you don’t wanna know how it ends, quit reading now.  Seriously…now.

**STORY SPOILERS**

The reason Darin started writing about Ayme in the first place was because they randomly met up at an alumni function.  They get to talking and having a good time (not to mention plenty of free booze) and wind up back at Darin’s place that night.  A month later, Ayme calls Darin and gives him the news:  she’s pregnant, and it could only be his.  They decide (after many, many lengthy conversations) that it would be best to raise it semi-together (as in, at least living in the same place), so one of them moves to where the other is (I haven’t decided yet).  They’re skittish about getting into a serious relationship again (and so they don’t….just remain close friends to raise the child).  Darin lets Ayme read the story and tells her to write her own version however she wants, so she does.  The End.

**END SPOILERS**

So there it is.  I think it’s quite brilliant, because it leaves absolutely zero finality.  Just raises more questions than existed at any other time during the story.  Sometimes, I truly am willing to acknowledge my own genius.  It has been known to happen on rare occasion.  Exceedingly rare.  Into Uber-rare territory.

I suppose that’s enough.  Too much lime green on black is probably not so good on the eyes, which explains a lot with my eyes.  Meh.  That’s the best I can do?  I must be tired, then, because that means the Dave-tron 3000 Joke Generator has gone back on the fritz.  To the exits, quickly!

Sayonara.