A nurse that I see all the time suggested that I get Snapchat. I responded, “Oh, so you can text me my lab results more easily?” Which eventually reminded me of this image.
Season 2, Episode 3 of New Girl is titled “Fluffer,” and without getting into the details, it reminds me that I ended two friendships for the same “fluffer” reason, I just didn’t know there was a name for it.
[From time to time I write little stories that have nothing to do with programming or technology; this is one of those stories. So, if you’re only here for the technology stuff, you’ll want to skip this one.]
I’m standing in the kitchen of a friend’s house at a Christmas party, making myself a drink while talking to a friend named Angie. This was nothing unusual; she and I were always talking about something. We became friends during our last year in high school, and we’ve been talking every since.
In retrospect it’s obvious that I have feelings for her, but I guess you could say that I didn’t appreciate her back then. After high school my ambition took me away to college, and then to a series of jobs in different states. By the time I decided to move back home, she was married and had two young children.
While we talked all the time, this kitchen conversation was unusual. I don’t remember how it started, but Angie did ask me about something I rarely talk about: my parents getting divorced in high school.
I guess I still don’t understand women.
This morning one of my doctors kept saying, “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”
After the third time she asked that question I thought, “I’ve seen this in the movies, I know what she’s really asking,” so I replied, “Do you want to come over and bake some cookies?”
Everything after that was a blur ... I think she said, “What?”, and then I think I said, “What??” ... now I don’t know if I need a new doctor or some cookie dough.
~ a Facebook post from July 15, 2014
I woke up at 4:30am on Friday with the idea for a story that I’ve currently titled, The Soul Game, which I hope to release next week. Lucid dreams being what they are, I came up with the first draft while I was sleeping, and then put it down on paper after I woke up. Working on that story leads me to write the following today:
Sometimes in life you meet another person, and as you get to know them you find that they’re incredibly awesome, but ... they’re also married. This has happened a couple of times in my life, to differing degrees. I always find that I don’t want to do anything to interfere with that person’s marriage, but part of me wants to say, “In case you didn’t know it, I think you’re pretty awesome, one of a kind.”
As a practical matter saying things like that tends to create problems, so I haven’t said it to anyone in a long time. (The last time I said it to anyone we ended up making out in a parking lot.) Instead, I hope that other people know that I think they’re awesome because I choose to spend my time with them. In this way the sad part is that things go unsaid, but I hope the other person knows what I think because I laugh and enjoy myself when I’m with them, and we have great conversations.
Here's a brief message for married people stuck in lousy marriages. One thing I learned about marriage is that it’s about teamwork, and if one partner isn’t part of that team — or doesn’t appreciate the other person — it’s no marriage at all, it’s just two people sharing bank accounts and living quarters. I strongly believe that a marriage partner should be someone who builds you up, not one who tears you down.
(I was reminded of that when I saw this image on Facebook today.)
When I was a freshman in college I ended up spending a lot of days (and nights) in one of the girls’ dormitory buildings. My girlfriend shared a two-bedroom suite in a two-story building with another girl, who I think was at least a year or two older than I was.
There are only a few things I remember about the other girl. The first thing is that she was an extrovert and liked to have a good time. A second thing I remember was the time one of her relatives was going to come for a visit (her grandmother), I think, and she was vacuuming the apartment while smoking a joint to help her relax.
The third thing I remember is that she had a boyfriend at home, about 500 miles away, but after a while she also started seeing another guy at school. One day — I don’t remember the exact circumstances — I was standing in the doorway to her bedroom and she was sitting up in her bed, with her covers pulled up. I think her “school boyfriend” had just left the apartment, and I was either walking in or walking out at that time. I said hello to her, intending to keep moving on, but she said something I can’t recall that made me stop there in the doorway.
We usually only talked about “fun” things, never schoolwork or anything like that, but this time she seemed very serious, something was clearly on her mind. After a while she said, “Please don’t think less of me because of this (her relationship with this other guy). I ... I just don’t like to be alone.”
On other occasions she would joke about the song, Love the One You’re With, but on this rare occasion we had an honest moment.