How many times can she bat those eyes? Really, the answer won’t change. Reason being there has been one too many times where the little me has tapped the real me on the shoulder and has said “dude, can we please leave?” Normally I can tell him to just chill out and wait a minute but then he reminds me of all the times he so patiently waited with wide eyes and repeatedly tugged on my ear and stomped on my shoulder while chanting “let’s go! let’s go! let’s go!” Although I know the little me is always correct, I still defy him and stay right there looking at the soon to be ex-girlfriend with an expression comparable to if I just saw a ghost. Weird thing is I usually just remember something that would have helped me out a long time ago like the Pythagorean Theorem must work in any 90 degree triangle and then I just start adding up all the time I have wasted with the girl in front of me. I continue to stare and calculate until she asks what’s wrong or if I am alright. Given the the expression on my face and thoughts on a theory that would have really helped me in 10th grade along with my new itemized list of reasons why I should have walked out the door long ago, all I can really say is something along the lines of I’m totally fine. That is right when the little me, the one that usually lays dormant in my head but is now tap dancing on my shoulder, says “alright, good. She thinks everything is alright. Now, text one of your friends and tell them to call you, grab your jacket, and get out of this quick” which is what happens next. If that isn’t what happens, the little me jumps back in my head and hits the panic button causing all filtering of internal dialogue to cease. What comes out of my mouth is unedited. The button is hit so there is nothing to do now, we are past the point of no return. My thoughts and pieces of my brain fire out of my mouth and wind up all over her living room. It’s messy but it is all out so I can’t help but feel relieved. All that is left to do is explain that if I did like her, even as a friend, I would not have had to keep all these thoughts inside. See, it wouldn’t work out. Of course then I explain the little me that lives in my head and how I have told him to shut up for far too long even though I knew he was right which causes her to stare at me with that ‘I just saw a ghost’ look on her face. Next and final step is apologize for dropping my brain all over her living room, assure her that everything will be fine, I hold no hard feelings towards her, and let her know I have no problem assuming all responsibilities for the relationship. I mean, I am going to chalk up the time spent as a waste so the least I can do is agree with her friends the next time I see them and own up to whatever she feels like telling them. By that point I have already moved on as the decision to evacuate was made some time before I came out with all thoughts and real views on all things us. Plus I am never hurt by these break-ups. It just didn’t work and there were enough warning signs throughout the relationship to see that but I have a bad habit of giving people the benefit of the doubt. Most times it works out but every so often it doesn’t and that is what leads me to clear my head of any thoughts and all things her. It’s way easier to deal with these endings: I feel like a prick for about 10 minutes but then I am feeling fine by the eleventh minute so I shrug, make my way home and listen to Mr. T Experience. By about the 7th song the whole thing is a joke of a story, one I will be telling by week’s end to those who ask about whats-her-face and while telling the tale of the last girl, I am reminded again how it wouldn’t work out future-wise. I am talking to friends, which equals comfort, so the story goes detail by little detail. No need to leave anything out or edit because these are the people I do have a future with and care about. Something happened along the way with the female lead in the story which caused me to stop and think before saying what I wanted to. I wound up walking on egg shells and eventually not saying a word which caused her to ask what is wrong and then she hears exactly what is wrong: her and all these instances where I am wondering who the hell she is and it hit me that all the instances can be strung together and the end result is a person who I don’t like. Then I ask myself what the hell I am doing here? The answer: nothing worth anyone’s time so say goodbye to whats-her-face (maybe see if she is down for a high five considering the effort spent on us). Sucks, I know, but I am sure there are a lot of people that would love to solve the mystery of her so I need to leave, let them give it a go, and pursue a girl that is comfortable. And that would be the most important part of any relationship, you are completely and entirely comfortable with the other person. Comfort means the brain can go back to it’s normal state. It is almost impossible to exist otherwise.

Examples of internal dialogue. I will be playing the role of What I Said, the little me will be playing My Thought, and the role of the Girl (yeah, they all relate to those chicks now) will be played by a host of ex’s, not one specific as none of them have called me back when I offered them the role in this blog entry…

On Love:
Girl: I really really like you
My Thought: You barely barely know me, it’s been 3 days
What I Said: Yeah I really really like you too
My Thought: It’s been 3 days!

On Pop Culture:
Girl: I love this show!
My Thought: The premise of this show is 5 ex-strippers, an open liquor cabinet, and a guy going through a mid-life crisis…and you love it
What I Said: (blank stare) Is there beer in the fridge?
My Thought: And maybe some whiskey for me. Don’t forget about me, I am the one who is working overtime here and something tells me it will not be worth it.
What I Said: Maybe like a shot, too. Beer and a shot. You wanna do a shot?

On Us:
Girl: I can’t stop thinking about you.
My Thought: She is on vacation. Is this touching? No, touching would feel good. Instead, I need to think of a polite way to relay the message that she needs a life. Are we thinking about her? Well, guess so but thinking about what is wrong with her as opposed to the usual hold hands and make out thing.
What I Said: Yeah, yeah I think about you too. Sometimes non-stop…
My Thought: Way to go. You might want to add that it’s non-stop thinking about what kind of mental condition she has. Suggest professional help but don’t be a dick
What I Said: …like sometimes I have dreams but not like sex just talking to you. So, how are you?
My Thought: You are an idiot. Just shut up
Girl: Aww, that’s sweet. I’m goooood
What I said: (blank stare)

On Sex:
Girl: You’re sexy.
My Thought: You’re drunk.
What I Said: Thank you…yeah, you too. You’re sexy.
My Thought: Way to lay it on thick there buddy. You are dumb if you think she bought it. Oh wait, shit she is smiling. Fuck dude, she did! You need to leave this chick tomorrow. This whole thing is starting to make me feel sick and if I’m sick then you’re screwed. We work so well together, help me help you.
What I Said: Totally sexy.
My Thought: Totally screwed.

On Spirituality
Girl: I hate my ex. Do you believe in Karma?
My Thought: Fuck! Does she have a Magic 8 Ball? I need to ask it a few things
What I Said: Is that ceramic Buddha from Z Gallery? The one by the television right by your crucifix.
My Thought: She kind has a whole religious round table discussion thing in the way of figurines and such over in that corner. Thoughts on luck maybe? You do have some books on religion and Buddhism so maybe let her borrow those. No don’t do that, we need to leave not stay.

On General Well-Being:
Girl: Have you ever wanted to just leave, like just go somewhere else?
My Thought: You mean like me leave your life? Yes. Tell her if she is thinking leaving Chicago that she should do it! Tell her! Tell her!
What I Said: Well you know, winter can be rough so you know, if you are going to…actually it’s only like 5-6 weeks of bad weather. Yeah, no I am good here.
My Thought: You could be a lot better here, brother.

On Perception:
Girl: You are really sweet.
My Thought: How about normal. Normal is good and compliments make me feel weird.
What I Said: Thanks. It’s my parents fault. You are pretty sweet yourself.
My Thought: She is sweet? Alright, you are in trouble because she is not that sweet. We need to talk…now!

On Work:
Girl: I HATE my job. If you could do anything, what would it be?
What I Said: (zoned out) Go to Kuma’s and get a burger. I’m pretty hungry and haven’t been there in a while.
My Thought: Yeah! Finally you are talking some sense!
Girl: What? No, I mean for a job.
What I Said: Oh, yeah I like my job a lot. I wouldn’t change anything, work or outside of work. Yeah, I am pretty alright.
My Thought: There is one thing you could change. Hint: she is sitting right next to you.
What I Said: There is one thing I would like to change…
Girl: What?
What I Said: Huh?
My Thought: Finally! We are back together working on this. I missed you man!
What I Said: (whispering) I missed you too man.
Girl: I would like to be a professional shopper.
What I Said: (very long blank stare) Like a trophy wife? Wait, you get paid to hang out at the Gap? I think I am going to go to Kuma’s…

Upon Ending It:
Girl: I hate you and you are a horrible person!
My Thought: Been called so much worse by so much better. Alright, act hurt. You still have a transfer on your card so make this quick, walking to el stop takes way too long from her place and the next bus will be here soon.
Spoken: Yeah, probably. Anyway, I gotta go.

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Black and White and Red (Flags) All Over:

The night began at around 6:30 when normal people eat food for dinner. It turned out my date was trying to put me on a liquid diet, so we just ordered drinks. After a couple drinks, he kept asking what his $20 tab was so i said, “do you want me to get the next round?” and he was all “sure!” (fail). After I would say things about my parents in Tucson, he kept saying things like “oh so you come from money?” I should have said, “Yo! I gotta get home and count my stacks of money!” but instead I relayed my childhood I-don’t-come-from-money stories about how my sister and I would sled on a car hood while our dad caulked the hole in my soccer ball. Then he asked..