Women, Truth, and Fly
In the end, you always figure it out. Or at least, I do.
I'm getting more and more disgruntled with women lately. First, there was the thing with The Lobster, which I'm sure she still has absolutely no clue about. She'll call again; it may be a week, it may be a month, it may be tomorrow, but she'll call again, and because I'm tired of the empty chase, I won't answer. It's as simple as that. Of course, The Lobster is the least of my worries; she's at least consistent, and I know that when we talk, she's not lying to me. Same with ladies like April and Sarah Canuck.
No, the issue isn't females who I can rely on. The issue is females who I can't rely on... To be honest, that is. I'm getting sick and tired of women who either tell me lies, or withhold information. Let me give you a couple of examples.
In late 2003 I went on two dates with a girl who I met on the Internet, who lived in the Metropolis area. She showed a very strong interest in me, and while she wasn't a centerfold, she was fun to be around and had various favorable assets. Both dates were exceedingly friendly, though she was fairly liberal (and dumb as a brick to boot), so I made sure that she didn't get the wrong idea. Her stories were fairly impressive to begin with, and kept getting more outlandish leading up to the second date. After the second date, it became increasingly clear that the stories weren't adding up. Between being life-flighted from her university to Metropolis for routine surgery because she, for some reason, had some medical issue precluding transit by automobile; to claims that her mother had died in Montana, and her father several years earlier; to questions of where to come up with a lot of money in a short period of time, followed by claims of having bought herself a big, flashy ring, this girl's stories finally pretty much fell apart when no money and a somewhat immobilizing injury turned into an away message heralding a trip to the Midwest for Spring Break. She also stood me up once, and claimed that she was transferring to [Generic University], then never showed. I cut this person completely out of my life, because if she could lie to me about things like a leg injury and having sex on top of a parking structure in Metropolis, who knows what other lies she could tell to other people.
Another recent one lives in Michigan, and I've been talking to her for a couple of years now. Although some of her stories hadn't quite made much sense when put together before, I finally caught her recently, even though she didn't admit to it. There have been extreme stories before; her mother's attempted suicide, the time she went to visit one of her dad's friends who was "like an uncle" when she was twelve or thirteen, only to have him molester her, the claim to have finished an entire plate of ribs (this girl's short and skinny as a rail, there's no way that she finished that plate of ribs). She told me at one point that she used to run constantly, several miles a day, but that a doctor had diagnosed her with knee problems and told her she couldn't run anymore; she repeated this story several times. Now, the standing story for a couple of years has been that A) she was skipped ahead a year in school, and B) she's now in her second year at a community college, on a track to become a chiropractor. Well, she asked me a couple of weeks ago for advice, because she was thinking about joining the Army or the Air Force. I did my best to dissuade her, as I really don't think that an eighteen year old girl should be joining the military at this point in history if her primary goal is to pay for college; however, I pointed out that if she joined the military, she would have to run, repeatedly, continuously, and throughout her career. Her answer was that she understood that, and that it was one of the things that the recruiters said that they'd need to talk about with her at their next meeting. I didn't exactly call her out, but we both knew that I'd caught her.
There's been another incident, nowhere near as serious, but every bit as disconcerting. A girl who has always been brutally honest with me, to the point of arguments, appears to be giving me the runaround, presenting excuses, and generally giving me reasons for a recent policy change that don't make any sense. You must remember, folks: your friendly neighborhood Super Fly is a historian, adept at remembering and processing sequential historical data, and noting when the sequence doesn't make sense. At the very least, the situation is unnerving, even if she's telling me the truth; the sad part is that if she just told me straight up what the situation was, I would have been upset, but the issue wouldn't have escalated to the point where it currently stands.
This, of course, begs the question: why do I tend to end up being involved, in one way or another, with women who aren't straight with me? Ask The Wife and she'll tell you, flat out, that I'm honest to a fault. The honest girls that I've dated, or attempted to date, haven't exactly turned out to be all that I'd hoped for, which a couple of notable exceptions.
It's times and attitudes like this that drive me into sexual camel, confirmed bachelor mode. Somewhere, some woman, or even a sorority full of them, is missing out on the legendary Fly charm, wit, and sexual potential, all because women tend to have severe issues with telling the truth. Until I find that right woman, I'll continue to enjoy a tall, smooth pint of Guinness with my mates, who are also declining in numbers.
If you've read to this point, please post a comment. If ten people comment, one of them will get a prize.
I'm getting more and more disgruntled with women lately. First, there was the thing with The Lobster, which I'm sure she still has absolutely no clue about. She'll call again; it may be a week, it may be a month, it may be tomorrow, but she'll call again, and because I'm tired of the empty chase, I won't answer. It's as simple as that. Of course, The Lobster is the least of my worries; she's at least consistent, and I know that when we talk, she's not lying to me. Same with ladies like April and Sarah Canuck.
No, the issue isn't females who I can rely on. The issue is females who I can't rely on... To be honest, that is. I'm getting sick and tired of women who either tell me lies, or withhold information. Let me give you a couple of examples.
In late 2003 I went on two dates with a girl who I met on the Internet, who lived in the Metropolis area. She showed a very strong interest in me, and while she wasn't a centerfold, she was fun to be around and had various favorable assets. Both dates were exceedingly friendly, though she was fairly liberal (and dumb as a brick to boot), so I made sure that she didn't get the wrong idea. Her stories were fairly impressive to begin with, and kept getting more outlandish leading up to the second date. After the second date, it became increasingly clear that the stories weren't adding up. Between being life-flighted from her university to Metropolis for routine surgery because she, for some reason, had some medical issue precluding transit by automobile; to claims that her mother had died in Montana, and her father several years earlier; to questions of where to come up with a lot of money in a short period of time, followed by claims of having bought herself a big, flashy ring, this girl's stories finally pretty much fell apart when no money and a somewhat immobilizing injury turned into an away message heralding a trip to the Midwest for Spring Break. She also stood me up once, and claimed that she was transferring to [Generic University], then never showed. I cut this person completely out of my life, because if she could lie to me about things like a leg injury and having sex on top of a parking structure in Metropolis, who knows what other lies she could tell to other people.
Another recent one lives in Michigan, and I've been talking to her for a couple of years now. Although some of her stories hadn't quite made much sense when put together before, I finally caught her recently, even though she didn't admit to it. There have been extreme stories before; her mother's attempted suicide, the time she went to visit one of her dad's friends who was "like an uncle" when she was twelve or thirteen, only to have him molester her, the claim to have finished an entire plate of ribs (this girl's short and skinny as a rail, there's no way that she finished that plate of ribs). She told me at one point that she used to run constantly, several miles a day, but that a doctor had diagnosed her with knee problems and told her she couldn't run anymore; she repeated this story several times. Now, the standing story for a couple of years has been that A) she was skipped ahead a year in school, and B) she's now in her second year at a community college, on a track to become a chiropractor. Well, she asked me a couple of weeks ago for advice, because she was thinking about joining the Army or the Air Force. I did my best to dissuade her, as I really don't think that an eighteen year old girl should be joining the military at this point in history if her primary goal is to pay for college; however, I pointed out that if she joined the military, she would have to run, repeatedly, continuously, and throughout her career. Her answer was that she understood that, and that it was one of the things that the recruiters said that they'd need to talk about with her at their next meeting. I didn't exactly call her out, but we both knew that I'd caught her.
There's been another incident, nowhere near as serious, but every bit as disconcerting. A girl who has always been brutally honest with me, to the point of arguments, appears to be giving me the runaround, presenting excuses, and generally giving me reasons for a recent policy change that don't make any sense. You must remember, folks: your friendly neighborhood Super Fly is a historian, adept at remembering and processing sequential historical data, and noting when the sequence doesn't make sense. At the very least, the situation is unnerving, even if she's telling me the truth; the sad part is that if she just told me straight up what the situation was, I would have been upset, but the issue wouldn't have escalated to the point where it currently stands.
This, of course, begs the question: why do I tend to end up being involved, in one way or another, with women who aren't straight with me? Ask The Wife and she'll tell you, flat out, that I'm honest to a fault. The honest girls that I've dated, or attempted to date, haven't exactly turned out to be all that I'd hoped for, which a couple of notable exceptions.
It's times and attitudes like this that drive me into sexual camel, confirmed bachelor mode. Somewhere, some woman, or even a sorority full of them, is missing out on the legendary Fly charm, wit, and sexual potential, all because women tend to have severe issues with telling the truth. Until I find that right woman, I'll continue to enjoy a tall, smooth pint of Guinness with my mates, who are also declining in numbers.
If you've read to this point, please post a comment. If ten people comment, one of them will get a prize.
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