Drivel

RP is an ungrateful wretch! Last week he posted a request for some advice in an area where I am an expert. I responded with an offer to assist if he'd not found anyone and immediately he sent me some information to evaluate. I read it and sent him my analysis and a list of questions I thought he needed to ask before he made a decision.

And I've not been thanked yet!

Or maybe I'm just a selfish little snot who thinks that the world should revolve around me, me, me. Who knows why he didn't respond? Maybe he was hit by bus and lies in an incoherent, amnesiac's haze somewhere, drooling on a nun's wimple and soiling his bed. Yeah. That's it! He's lost all knowledge of the English language and he thinks he's Marie Antoinette.

Oh, who am I kidding? He doesn't even know I'm alive and he'd doubtless be appalled to find out that I had a crush on him; or that I appropriate his persona to fulfill some pathetic little Jane-Austen romance in my head.

One of the blogs I read is written by someone I know only very casually. So casually I cannot pronounce his last name. He has no idea that I read it, let alone that I've responded. For the past few months his posts have all been about this come-hither-get-lost relationship he's been having with someone who clearly believes he is the yellow God put in a stick of butter. The second time B. got dumped I couldn't take it, so I responded to his post and told him that his "boyfriend" was a self-centered creep. I was profoundly more eloquent than that -- dare I say poetic. B. of course protested and tried so hard to be mature -- to discover his responsibility in the failure of the relationship, and to forgive the S.O.B. I wrote and told him that at some point in the distant future he could take the high road, but that at that moment he should give himself permission to cuss and pout, and above all else say not-nice things about the S.O.B. B. of course found a way to patch up the relationship, which of course has disintegrated for a third, and we're assured final time. Pass the Ben & Jerry's.

Why do people over the age of 21 do that to themselves? Maybe it's because I'm a cold, heartless prick but the way I cut it up, I simply do not have time for that crap. My time is much better spent whipping up frothy romances centered around someone who obviously either has no regard for me, or has lost all sense of social obligation -- or maybe he's accidentally chopped the fingers off his right hand and he can't type "thank you." Only two letters in that phrase are typed with your left hand, you know. Yes, that must be it! But I'm sure his left hand was spared for the wedding ring...

I am such a goon.