Now, I was in DC for a few days for my brother’s surprise birthday party: therefore there was like a one in ten billion chance of running into AOC as opposed to a one in ten trillion chance or something like that—furthermore, if i chanced upon AOC, I’d run and around the corner and hide. I needed AOC to have some sense of my talents before i should ever chance upon her—and, secondly, i had to make sure that my writing, which i wasn’t going to change, didn’t make her so mad she’d have nothing to do with me.
All i could think of now was getting rejected from law school, which was definitely a good thing, since the only reason i was doing it was to keep other people from driving me to commit suicide. Nowadays it sounds like i’ve got the whole thing backwards—that being a lawyer would drive me to hurt myself, that, in fact, being a lawyer, given my talents, was hurting myself. Anyhow, i just wasn’t myself, which is why I had someone from the past guiding me in much the same way that i am now guiding my AOC from the future. Craig, my dead uncle that represents my historical actor, backed up everything that i did such that when i did something i shouldn’t have done, i always managed not to get myself killed and or get stuck in a situation that wouldn’t have allowed me to be who i am.
Do i owe you an apology? I didn’t think AOC owed me an apology—if anything, i owed her an apology for trying to convince her to pay attention to her weight—as if she weren’t already. You get older, you gain weight, it happens to a lot of us: i know i was ten pounds heavier than i was a few years ago—a trend that could put me in uncomfortable territory in another few years. So I should get over it and get used to it if I really loved her—right? But maybe I didn’t really love her, yet. Maybe i was all talk and no action. She was a part of my counting mechanism, so she was on my mind for a good portion of the day, every day, but I wasn’t obsessed with her such that my heart ached when I couldn’t be in her presence. I definitely wasn’t that far gone—i’d have increased my dose if i were—who can function like that? That kind of thing has to go to zero eventually, or, otherwise, you die of broken heart.
But maybe AOC was being sarcastic when she asked if she owed me an apology. I think she probably was, which put a damper on things for a bit, but i didn’t let that get me down. (I wasn’t going to apologize—i’ve been nothing but sincere: i never intended to cause damage, and, frankly, no damage should have taken place). touché you joker . . . you midnight toker. . .i can’t wait until you die i didn’t know what to make of that—my AOC has a very complex sense of humor. some people say she’s got a great sense of humor, and some people say she doesn’t. I think she’s got a great sense of humor when she’s not using it on herself—and, by extension, me. She definitely employs a little sarcasm, but i don’t think she knows she’s doing it half the time. I think she just takes a drink of something and says the first thing that comes into her mind—which might or might not be what we want to hear—especially if she’s taking on the role of those that would make fun of her if she didn’t make fun of herself first. I don’t know why she would make fun of herself—but all great sarcasm starts from within.
now, i was here at this party and the self-confidence in the room was oppressive—i certainly didn’t have the kind of confidence that these people seemed to have. how could i? there were several young kids around and i was wondering if i could get through this—i was going to try and do it with me and AOC. so that gave me something to look forward too, but, honestly, this kind of scrutiny had me shaking in my boots—i was literally shaking—i mean, i was cold, but I was shaking more than i was shivering.
my Dad—yes, i have parents! tried to get me to come out of the backroom where I was dutifully writing this book (and trying to maintain contact with AOC) and meet people. But i was far too horrified and so not looking forward to seeing the expression on people’s faces when they figure out that there must be something wrong with me if I wasn’t married with kids or at least gay and with a partner. It was like people felt sorry for me—or, at least, they found it inopportune, at a party, to be aware of the fact that some people never made it in the world—that some people couldn’t manage on their own, much less in a romantic relationship that could or would lead to children.
What did AOC have to say about all this? she must have found herself in situations like this all the time—save the fact that she had all that self-confidence, independence, and success that anybody could ask for. I had to wonder, would i shake in my boots if I chanced upon AOC? would i turn into a pillar of salt if i ever shook her hand? déjà vu as if AOC knew that i knew that she knew about the hug, and i thought: maybe that’s what she wanted me to apologize for! After all, i was open to an affair, so how could i hold it against her is she was, too? Or was this just making her madder and madder—did she want to say that, in fact, there was no chance of her testing the water with the tip of her toe—it was just a harmless hug with somebody that she would never be romantically interested in? If that were the case, then i was mad, too, because the hug was too darn long, and i wasn’t going to apologize for anything but pointing something out that probably (in real time, at least) should have been none of my business.