13 July 2007

by the numbers

by the numbers

Unrelated to this image in anyway, I wish to make a formal statement:

Greg is a jerk.

I'm not being cruel or opinionated making that statement. He's professed himself how he has hung his children over the ledge of tall buildings by their ankles, and has kicked more then his fair share of fallen elderly. I find his story telling of these escapades very amusing. Plus it's endearing how he shoves the palm of hand into his nose when he's nervous. He does this a lot. Or at least when I'm around, and it's just occurred to me, that maybe I make him nervous.

Let's back up to this whole story about him not holding the door for me. It's a little more complicated then a man not holding a door open for a woman, which he has lead you to believe. We work together, and one morning I was following him into the building, approximately ten paces behind. We need a keycard to enter and according to Greg, he saw me in the reflection of the door and let it shut and lock just three seconds before I would've reached it. Pretty crass, right? I called him a prick under my breathe, but really, it wasn't like it was the middle of winter and my arms were full of food for the needy. I believe now it was the fear of having to walk up three flights of stairs with me.

An hour later, he emails me racked with guilt. He thought it'd be funny, he said. Well now a month has passed and he's still in anguish. Ok, maybe not anguish, but he's rehashing the event. Possibly even losing sleep over the whole thing. In the process, I've gained is an insight of how easily guilt-laden he is and plan to use that to my advantage.

Fact is, we have known each other nine years now, and I have invited him and his family over to my home no less then nine times. He's declined each time. He's only invited me and my husband to do something once, which we accepted, but this was only because Dan and Kerry were in town, and if he hadn't included us, he knew I'd most likely be upset. You see? There's that whole fear thing again. Maybe I'm sending off some type of signals saying I will firebomb your house if you cross me. (I don't think he's looked up my criminal record though.)

All of this is theory, of course, and having never taken any type of psychology class, it may just be me blowing smoke out of my ass. But if I were to wager, I'd say he's reading this right now with his hand pressed up against his nose.

2 comments:

Greg said...

My wife is leaving me.

I'm not saying it's your fault but she muttered something about being blind as she was shoving clothing into a bag. After she spun away in the Vibe I went back upstairs and saw this post on our computer.

Here's what you might not realize. That day I didn't hold the door for you there was a huge spider web just inside the doorway. As it coated my face I saw your reflection in the glass of the door. The last thing I wanted was for any of that web to get on you so I let the door close while I kept moving forward to clear your path.

I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of spiders. When I emailed you I was in tears and didn't have the courage to admit how crippled I was by the whole incident.

That was wrong. I should have trusted you with my secret.

I'm grateful for this chance to clear the air. I apologize for any typos. It's tough to type when one of your hands is pressed up against your nose.

bon bon said...

honesty. that's all i ask. or a false sense of it anyway.

i'm not sure i understand the whole Deb is leaving you thing though...is it the fear of being firebombed? cuz i was totally joking.

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