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I know how to find the maudlin with a little moxie, so to speak.… - Maudlin and Moxie [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Maudlin and Moxie

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[May. 9th, 2006|12:24 am]
Maudlin and Moxie


I know how to find the maudlin with a little moxie, so to speak. I've got this problem that most people would consider an attribute. I understand pretty much everyone inside and out within minutes of meeting them, sometimes the moment I meet them. And they get attached to me, and sometimes they love me, and they're usually melodramatic or lonely. But I don't really feel anything for them. I guess that's the problem.

For example, I make girls fall in love with me on accident, and then I have to break their hearts.

No, seriously.

And I'm not particularly suave, I don't have a beaming smile, I'm overweight and conversationally clumsy, I have not the capacity for showing affection. My nose was broken years ago (long story) and zig zags down my face like the stairway of a haunted house. Surely you remember that. My smile has been said to be "obtrusive" and "unnatural" by an ex-girlfriend of mine who now hates my guts. I'm rude and overly feminine. There don't seem to be any redeeming romantic qualities about me, except for the fact that I "understand" them: these clingy girls, wide eyed at my ability to listen so attentively and tell them things they already know.

But that's not what this is about. I'm not sending you letters to complain of romantic woes and ask for sympathy. I'm writing you letters because I think you, of all people, will understand what I have to say. And having someone understand is obviously what everyone desperately needs in life. I am, unfortunately, no exception.

I remember our conversation, just like I remember everything. I remember you saying that two people from separate corners of the world meeting in a foreign country neither has ever visited to watch a dog show and have a philosophical conversation with each other was real funny. You laughed. Your laugh sounded like a music box being wound backwards.

You said you were allergic to dogs and I said I hated them. You laughed again. You said irony gave you a real giggle fit. I said irony made me sick to my stomach.

I was at the dog show because I promised a friend of mine I would support her and her stupid spoiled shitzu. You were there because you promised your mother you would support her and her stupid spoiled bull terrier. Neither my friend or your mother won any prizes, and they cried, and we had to console them, and so we left after agreeing to meet each other for coffee the next day. And so we did, the next day, and you said this:

"I'm not the kind of girl who falls in love, but if I were I'd be a real shipwreck right now."

And I replied:

"That's an interesting way to put it."

And you laughed that music box laugh, and you wrote down your address instead of your phone number on my palm instead of the back of my hand, and you said two people like us should stay in touch, and then we flew on our separate planes to our separate homes in our separate corners of the world.

And here I am, staying in touch, as you suggested two people like us should do.

[User Picture]From: skyisacanvas
2006-05-10 01:54 am (UTC)
Thanks. Most people don't have the attention span for things of this length, so I'm glad to know someone will read it, haha. I think this will be a really fun project if it stays relatively consistent.
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