for jesse. 'cause he likes me for me
jesse likes me. other people do too. but him i like back. it made me wonder why. now i know ...
*sing ...he likes me for me ... not because i'm phat like cindy crawford*. 
. ahem. but i digress.
jesse made me realise something. (it was an accident hehe. but he still did it, so it counts). usually, if somebody new that i meet likes me, it's because they think i’m “different” or “interesting” or something ...
... i, however, would prefer those that i am close to actually being able to relate to me. that being the point of friendship, i thought ?.
so, i tend not to make friends these days. manners prevent me from ignoring people, though. and as a consequence i invariably form attachments that i find difficult to maintain.
despite it being what attracted them to me in the first place, most people don’t find my “aloofness” very attractive once they’re trying to be “friends” with me. quite the opposite. the resultant “friendship” becomes as weighty as a second marriage as i try to meet the needs of the “friend”.
battles ensue over forgotten birthdays and “insensitivity” on my part. this is around the time i begin to question why the so-called “friendship” was ever allowed to occur in the first place, and usually also the point when i drop it.
the stunning array of nasty emails, phone messages, and, amazingly enough, what seems to be genuine outrage on the part of the “wounded party” reliably follow.
with apparently no thought for the fact that i also am in pain. the kind of pain that only comes from holding out an open hand to yet another person who couldn’t accept me as i am.
but jesse likes me for me. bless your little cotton socks, petal. (and your dirty little mind, too). smooch.