24 and...

24 and the bomb has yet to drop. Not that it won't, just that it has not. Maybe just maybe my karma points were high enough. I guess in the end I did not have a bad day. I think that Yoda had it all worked out. That is to say that a puppet with a hand up its ass dished out some surprisingly good words. That whole fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to a desire to make fun of the other person behind their back because you are to chicken shit to face them. Well OK maybe not that exactly. But it is true. Here is a story. A friend (I use the term loosely because the girl of whom I speak does not understand what friendship means) and I are set to head out on a road trip to go to my cousins wedding. Pretty fancy affair. The weekend is set. We start here in Detroit with a Tigers game, drive all night to Iowa taking turns driving and staying alive. Crash out for a couple of hours and head to the party. Spend the next day with the family then head out for Chicago to see the sights. Finally heading home after a couple of days. Sound fun, well it did to me. Now to the reality. Two weeks before we were to head back she starts asking me what she should wear, I say nothing to fancy and that I was going to buy a new suit she could judge off that. We go suit shopping. We had a great time, I hate to shop... she loves to, but it somehow worked out. I pick up a nice formal suit, not a tux or anything so fancy. She has her idea. About this time she goes on a crash diet. Next day she goes shopping with the girls. She says she found a dress but that she was going to check one more place. I remind her that she does not have all that much time to get it altered and all, she says it's cool. A couple of days before we were to go we get together for lunch. We engage in the usual bashing of her roommate, who is one episode from Jerry Springer. Now for the record there is nothing unusual about this. Then she says that we should not make fun of her roommates weight because of how "fat" she herself is. This is nuts. I tell her this is nuts. While my friend is not a twig she has a very shapely figure. Girls and weight. I will never fully understand even though I know somehow that as a guy I am responsible (though I harbor this feeling that the fashion industry has something to do with it). Anyway I ask her about that dress she was in love with and she said everything is set, then got all quiet. I ask her if there is something wrong and she says no, but won't really speak to me. Later that night I ran into her and she was being downright bitchy. I asked what was up and she did not say anything, then as she was leaving the room she said something about my not being right all the time. I stopped her and asked what the fuck was going on. She told me that it was one thing to talk to other girls about their weight but that I had no right to comment. I asked what she was talking about and she told me to fuck off. This just really pissed me off. She is known to throw temper tantrums but I was not ready for her to say a couple of the things she said. I told to fuck off and grow up. With some nice four letters flying we parted ways. I have not spoken with her since, over two weeks. I did not head back because none of my other friends could make arrangements in time and I did not want to try to pull the trip off by driving all night alone. Now some part of this may make sense to you dear reader. I think that may be in part to how I have sketched it out, but at the time I was confused as hell. In retrospect this is what I think happened, she fell in love with a dress but in her weird girl state decided that it did not look right on her, thus the diet. She never bought a dress by the way. I add this to the case, she can be petty, not only in deed but also in thought. I see a diamond in her, but it is crushed beneath the shroud of stupidity and aggression she clings to in order to prevent failure. I think, I believe, that she processed this weird thing about her body into aggression towards me as a source that unwittingly pointed it out to her. This channeled aggression she used to sabotage the trip, thus the Yoda quote. In that it was my fault for making her mad she walks form the scene guilt free to her own little world. See I ran into one of the Avengers, of which she and I are both members, though I have been avoiding them since all this. He, under a guise of normality, made a mocking comment about my old job, Special Operations, and thus me. I rolled this off my back as I walked into 69. What this tells me though is that they have sat around and made me the brunt of many a joke, because I was not there to defend myself a natural side developed. Don't read too far into it, I do not really care all that much. It is the nature of the beast. The funny thing is that she still dodges me, and I dodge her. I think she dodges me because she knows that I understand her, maybe better than she understands herself sometimes. Speaking to me would be like facing that reflection in the mirror. Not the reflection we use to brush our teeth and comb our hair, but rather the one that lay behind our eyes. The one that we look at sometimes and realize that what and who we are does not measure up to what we want or pretend to be. Would you want to face that mirror if it talked back? I don't think I would. I may be wrong, I am sometimes, more often than I know. Maybe I do not realize what I said. I could have called her a pig, demeaned her to a one cow woman, it is possible. I would apologize but what good would it do. If she has assembled the Avengers and they have taken a stand it would look odd if she accepted an apology and backed down. No, she would belittle me. There would need to be a process to making up, a process that I do not care enough about. I have stuck my neck out for her. Defended her against a reaper that would love to see my neck get chopped. This is my reward. It is in this that I am so upset. Friendship is sacred, a trust and bond akin and sometimes exceeding that of family. I extended this to her, she dumped on it. That leaves us here. A gray area stuck on a shelf and left to die amidst forgotten relics. Perhaps for the better, 'tis fate or something less. I thank you dear reader, for sitting through my wondering aside. Allowing me to organize my thoughts on this. Vent into the catharsis of words. Is it permanently over between her and I, along with my role in the vaulted Avengers (as I so call them)? To finish as I started, "The future is always in motion." -A puppet with a hand up its ass.