Do You Spit or Swallow?
I was sharing a bottle of wine with a friend who I had known since school and who was like a brother to me when the following conversation occurred:
Me: "So when are you going to ask this girl out that you like?"
Him: "Never - I could never do that."
Me: "You HAVE to tell her - even if she says no, you have to at least try."
Him: "No, I couldn't! She would never go out with me."
Me: "You know, I sometimes wonder if guys that I've known for ages have always had a thing for me, and that it would be really nice just to know - even if I'm not interested, it would just be nice if they had told me."
As I speak, I suddenly realise that his glass of wine is motionless in his hand. His eyebrows were slightly raised as if I have revealed a secret...his pupils dilate still wider and I suddenly feel enormously uncomfortable. I quickly change the subject but I couldn't deny what I had just witnessed. How could this be possible? This was a male friend who went out of his way to be obnoxious, selfish and completely uncaring toward me. But as our travelling time together progressed, I realised that perhaps he was masking his warmer feelings for me by being so...bloody irritating. One day after a particularly hard day's travelling during which I had food poisoning, my friend promptly handed his backpack to the hotel porter, forcing me to carry mine up the long stretch of stairs to our room. I mean FOR GOODNESS SAKE. I'm all for being an independent woman who doesn't need a man for help but this was just plain mean.
We were on our first day of our Tibet leg of the trip when I was in one of those moods. I had grown intensely tired of him sticking so closely to my side - he got the hint and choofed off to my silent relief. When I returned that evening in a much cheerier mood, he was holding an exercise book. He confessed that he had spent the day writing poetry and allowed me to read a page. I handed the book back and the page turned by accident, "Ooh, can I read that one?" I asked and reached for the exercise book again. "NO!!" he shouted, snatching the book out of my reach. He tore out the page, scrunched it into a ball, then to my horror, stuffed it into his mouth and began chewing it. When he realised that he wouldn't be able to swallow it anytime soon he dashed to the bathroom, coughed it into the toilet and flushed it.
I decided not to ask. It was probably best that thoughts remain undisclosed if they cause this much hysteria in a grown man.
But I still think its nice to know when someone takes the terrifying plunge of telling you how they really feel.
Hey, its gotta be more fun than eating your own words : )
Me: "So when are you going to ask this girl out that you like?"
Him: "Never - I could never do that."
Me: "You HAVE to tell her - even if she says no, you have to at least try."
Him: "No, I couldn't! She would never go out with me."
Me: "You know, I sometimes wonder if guys that I've known for ages have always had a thing for me, and that it would be really nice just to know - even if I'm not interested, it would just be nice if they had told me."
As I speak, I suddenly realise that his glass of wine is motionless in his hand. His eyebrows were slightly raised as if I have revealed a secret...his pupils dilate still wider and I suddenly feel enormously uncomfortable. I quickly change the subject but I couldn't deny what I had just witnessed. How could this be possible? This was a male friend who went out of his way to be obnoxious, selfish and completely uncaring toward me. But as our travelling time together progressed, I realised that perhaps he was masking his warmer feelings for me by being so...bloody irritating. One day after a particularly hard day's travelling during which I had food poisoning, my friend promptly handed his backpack to the hotel porter, forcing me to carry mine up the long stretch of stairs to our room. I mean FOR GOODNESS SAKE. I'm all for being an independent woman who doesn't need a man for help but this was just plain mean.
We were on our first day of our Tibet leg of the trip when I was in one of those moods. I had grown intensely tired of him sticking so closely to my side - he got the hint and choofed off to my silent relief. When I returned that evening in a much cheerier mood, he was holding an exercise book. He confessed that he had spent the day writing poetry and allowed me to read a page. I handed the book back and the page turned by accident, "Ooh, can I read that one?" I asked and reached for the exercise book again. "NO!!" he shouted, snatching the book out of my reach. He tore out the page, scrunched it into a ball, then to my horror, stuffed it into his mouth and began chewing it. When he realised that he wouldn't be able to swallow it anytime soon he dashed to the bathroom, coughed it into the toilet and flushed it.
I decided not to ask. It was probably best that thoughts remain undisclosed if they cause this much hysteria in a grown man.
But I still think its nice to know when someone takes the terrifying plunge of telling you how they really feel.
Hey, its gotta be more fun than eating your own words : )
Rugby World Cup 2007
He's got it bad for you.
Eating your own words...spit or swallow?
...tellatio...
A La Solo
...being shy is charming but die-hard courage will really leave an impression : )