More Panty Twisters

Life is linear. You learn as you go. The past two weeks were a treasure trove of life lessons. Here are a few that caught my attention.

1. There appear to be two types of people: doers and worriers. I am a doer. I get things done. Worriers get nothing done and chap my ass.
2. Compromise is a foreign concept to most people, who seem to think that conflict resolution occurs when the other guy gives in.
3. Conflict resolution skills should be taught in nursery school with a refresher course every Monday morning.
4. Scientific disagreements should never be taken personally and taking it personally is a sure sign of professional immaturity.
5. I don't have time to resolve everyone's conflict nor do I have the desire to, and yet, I find myself constantly thrust in that position. Most people don't like my approach to conflict resolution, to which I say, "Tough shit. You involve me in your conflict, you get what I bring."
6. In any group effort comprised of more than three people, I will get the least desirable job. The least desirable job comes with the most work, the lowest amount of recognition, the highest risk of blame, and the highest probability that you will make the undeserving look competent.
7. If there is a way for someone to really piss me off, they will exercise it.
8. I have no respect for people who undermine or misrepresent my work. None whatsoever.
9. I seem to run into a disproportionate number of assholes.
10. I like people with foreign gestures. They are fun to watch. I've decided to adopt a few.

Today we are going to play "I Don't F***king Believe It"

I was supposed to have a date last Saturday. It was postponed. I'm actually thankful that it was. Curtis, the gentleman that I canvassed with on the Obama campaign, called me several times, certainly expressing sufficient interest. He sent several emails. Turns out he is living with a woman that "used" to be his girlfriend. Wait! Wait! She is dating someone else. He's met her boyfriend. They just haven't sold the property they own together. He wasn't much motivated to move out on his own and then "poof" he met me.

He can only check his email once every couple of days. He doesn't have an internet connection at home. Hmmmm.

As we were only a first name basis while canvassing, I asked for his last name during the course of our phone conversation. He said his name was Mayfield. I laughed. Curtis Mayfield. I asked him if he was Superfly. Today, when he called with a new cell phone number (??!!!??), he admitted that his name wasn't Mayfield. That was a big joke (at my expense apparently). He signed his text message: Charlie Brown--his nickname apparently. But here's the kicker, when I asked him what his real name is he said he would tell me on Saturday when we met for our date. He wanted to tell me while he was looking in my eyes.

Ummmm. First. That just sounds creepy. Second. Do I have MORON tattooed on my forehead? Thinks I'm going to meet someone who can't even tell me his f***king name?

Step up to the wheel, Curtis....if that is your real name, and take a spin because I DON'T F**king believe it. Let me explain how this looks to the average woman my age who has been around long enough to see it all.

1. You are either married or living with someone and shopping around. You may or may not be willing to leave the wife/girlfriend, it probably depends on how much money she makes and how often she is willing to put out.
2. The new phone is the price of having an affair and keeping said wife/girlfriend in the dark.
3. You can't check your email at home because the computer keeps a record of your internet history and I'll bet your wife/girlfriend isn't stupid. I bet you learned this lesson the hard way.
   
4. The lack of a last name is to either prevent the other woman (me) from doing a background check on you (and oh yes, Curtis, we do background checks), or to prevent us from calling up the wife and innocently asking to speak with you. My, wouldn't that be inconvenient for you.

Is it possible I am wrong? Yes. Is it probable? Not likely. Honestly, sometimes I could just cry.