The feelings that hurt the most,
the emotions that sting most,
are those that are absurd;
the longing for impossible things,
precisely because they are impossible;
nostalgia for what never was;
the desire for what could have been;
regret over not being someone else;
dissatisfaction with the world's existence.
All these half-tones of the soul's consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.
The night of the fireworks, as I sat on that cold, concrete bench, I found myself talking to a girl for much longer than I wanted.
I was sitting outside because Godson and I hadn't made it to church on time, and we were unlucky to bump into the girl as we were working our way OUT of the church premises.
The chick was Godson's classmates back in high school, but never paid attention to Godson because he was "scrawny." Suddenly, she "has always liked" Godson... now that he has bulked up and is making a name for himself in the fitness modeling world.
Right. We believe you, chick.
So, it was thanks to this chick that we found ourselves taking a seat on the benches outside of church, and talking in the chilly breeze.
I obviously wasn't saying much-- she wasn't MY ex-classmate. It didn't help that she remembered me as "Oh! Una de esas sangrónas" roughly translated to "Oh! You're one of those stuck up/conceited/fake girls." (she claimed she had never seen me before. Godson corrected her, reminded her of a wedding we had both attended-- she was an uninvited guest at MY table. We let her sit there, even if she took Godson's seat, so I don't know why the bitch complained... but whatever, that was four years ago) and then she proceeded to claim how we Hometown girls are the snobbiest, most unpleasant of the entire municipality (she's from two towns over).
Are you trying to befriend me... or get me jailed/excummunicated once the soldiers catch me strangling you on church premises?
Anyway, at one point, Godson left our side because he walked over to greet some other folk who hadn't seen him in years.
MeanChick and I were forced to talk... well, more like SHE was forced to talk, since I was fine sitting in silence.
She tried some smalltalk with me, but since I hate that fucking shit, she wasn't very successful.
Me: Sorry, I'm just really quiet and timid. People confuse it for snobbery, but I really just take a while to warm up and start talking.
Her: Yeah, no kidding... you really ARE really quiet.
She REALLY wanted to get on Godson's dick, and once she found out I was his godmother, who was pretty much like his older sister, she tried REALLY hard to fall in my good graces.
Apparently girls talk about their sentimental life in hopes of bonding.
MeanChick proceeded to ask me about dudes.
Her: So, are you married? Engaged? Dating?
Me: None. I'm single for life.
Her: You don't even have a crush or any of that business?
Me: Well, crushes I'm sure everyone has, I'm not an exception. However, my crush lives far, FAAAR away from me, so it's like... I pretty much have nothing.
A couple of minutes later, the conversation moved on to age. She likes older men, and hates younger guys.
Her: Younger guys are so... childish. I want nothing to do with them.
Me: Oh no, toss them over this way!
Her: What?! You like them young?!
Me: Hell yeah. HELL. YEAH. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've gone the older man route before, but it just DOES NOT work.
Her: They're just too serious, huh? They have their act together, they know what they want. I get it. You like the unobtainable... something that is not a sure thing... something that will never be serious. That's why you like the young guys... crush on guys that... you'll never be able to have. You'll never get serious, always be single.
I ended the conversation there. I zipped my lips, no longer made eye-contact, and probably scowled.
She was correct. So correct.