My Type

The good news is I tend to gravitate towards these very intelligent, sensible types which provide good advice. The bad news is they also tend to be a little loopy. I once dated a woman who on one hand would provide sage insights on how to deal with difficult coworkers, for example, and then on the other hand wrap a string of magnets around her neck as a prophylactic against The Universe’s negative energy. Baffling. Then there was the engineer who had an extreme fear of bed bugs. In her purse she carried around this spritzer filled with a personal mixture of lemon grass, sage, thyme and fuck-knows-what-else which she would use to spray herself, me and our surrounding area whenever we went out on a date. I was told that this concoction would drive the offending bed bugs away from us. She’d say, would you like some of this, sweetie? Uh no, I’m thinking to myself, I’d rather do a deep probe of my anus and wipe the result under my nose than continue to smell that shit. Instead I asked, is it flammable? She paused. I continued, I mean I don’t want some arse who’s smoking a cigarette to flick an ember on me and then I spontaneously combust. That would seriously fuck up my day. See? Loopy.

 

 

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