Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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I'm thinking of developing a potion that makes me invisible to girls. It's not about the locker room

I have lots of misery and angst to express this evening, but first a little anecdote for your amusement. Don't worry, it's rough on me too.

So today in film class I was feeling bloated. Now I know I'm not a woman, but even super manly men get gassy from time to time. My pants were cutting into my fully expanded belly and my stomach and colon were sending signals of pain from the amount of gas in them. I was bloated but I had a plan. A plan to go to the bathroom and fart a whole lot after everyone else had already been in there.

Unfortunately as I was about to execute this master stroke of planning I was thwarted. From across the aisle a woman spoke. She said "Hey, weren't you in the summer Kubrick class?" It was a female speaking to me. My brain leapt into action.

"ABORT ABORT, SELF DESTRUCT" it shouted at me. I informed it that I'd eaten French Fries before class and was doing my very best to accomplish that but my damn heart just wouldn't give out. It did not seem happy at this turn of events but it reluctantly turned to face the danger.

She was about 5'7", 140 lbs (I have NO clue about women's weight, I have a horrible suspicion that I've just accused her of being fat without intending to.) Dark hair and conservatively dressed. Despite the fact that she wasn't what I'd call particularly conventionally attractive her voice had something to it, a certain reserved New Englandy feminine strength that made her physical appearance almost irrelevant. I love that voice, not too high but still feminine, well annunciated and appealing. We had a conversation during the break, about movies which seems to be the right thing to talk about in a film class. I don't think she liked my sense of humor very much. I did not get to go to the bathroom and release the gas.

You have to remember that my film class lasts 4 hours. Four hours during which the bacteria in my intestines were busy producing even more methane. The break was at hour 2. By hour 3 I thought I was going to pop. I was adjusting in my chair, occasionally glancing over towards the girl in either interest or resentment, I can't remember which, and wishing I would die. As time expired I thought I had a zeppelin in my gut. Even worse, a couple scraps of gas managed to escape if you know what I mean, and while they weren't loud it was not exactly the classiest move.

By the end of the class I couldn't wait to get out of there and contribute to global warming. The woman packed up and left without saying a word to me, I'm not sure if this was because she had nothing more to say or because it was my turn to initiate conversation. I think the answer is #1. Girls don't like my personality. It's been proven time and time again in scientifically controlled studies.

Just one more slight irony. Before I realized the extent of my gastro-intestinal troubles I had toyed very stupidly with the idea of asking her out for a drink. The film we saw in the second half was called On The Bowery. It's about the effects of alcoholism among the Bowery bums and how one more drink can drag them back into a disastrous life of misery.

Sometimes the universe doesn't make you work for the signs. Maybe I should move to Alaska. Not a lot of women up there. I might be safe.
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