Sunday, Jan. 26, 2003 @ 9:40 pm
Immature? Yes, I do agree. But not when it's your opinion.
Not when I see how you act. It was bothering me for many hours. Those words. It is a truism for sure, but I wanted to scream back at you the very same conclusion. Goddamnit, you are old enough to act more responsibly. Old, even. Old. Too old. I already said I have no excuses or justification, but I also have no understood promises to keep.
Suddenly I question anything you've ever told me. No, no. It's just the reaction of the pushed button. I called you a name first and you shook your head in disbelief. But that's true, too, and you know it. It wasn't meant to be mean: it was a statement of fact. So I'll accept being immature as an inherent trait in an undergraduate 22-year old.
So that is why, when you offered me a ride home from the station, I said no. You'd had a couple drinks. I could see Miss "I Bet They'd Fool Around if Given the Chance" giving you googly eyes. She's got 5 more years of maturity, 4 more inches of height, and 2 more sizes of bra. Oh yeah, and a laugh and a nose like a horse. You're all about economies, and her assests for sure outweigh her annoyingness. You two walked off together up Main, the concrete grey, sulphur lights alternating with neon flashes, red tail lights, and the doors slide together.
But more than any of that, there was the new co-op who lives 3 stops from me. His eyes sparkle with immaturity. It would be rude to not share the tiresome sway of the late night #10. Especially when it was his first real night of Us Drinking. We talked a little. Nothing really major, it's hard when he's just as introverted as I am.
I can understand how you are afraid to fall in love again, but you are being a wimp with her. A real wimp. Take her or leave her. She's RIGHT for you. Open your fucking eyes. Grow up.