Bus Stop, Wet Day, She's there, I say ...
You are either on the bus, or off the bus, as the quite mortal Mr. Kesey put it.
Before being on the bus, you are at the bus stop. I was today. I met a girl.
Or I should say "She met me." She surely thought she wanted to. I could tell. She was all over me at the bus stop. Now, had I been more attracted to her, I might have done things a tad differently (perhaps not, but maybe).
I didn't want to be impolite, but when she asked if we could go to dinner together, I knew I'd have to do something subtle. Since I had a late lunch I had a ready-made excuse for that.
So I listened, and conversed, until she got around to a salient question: "Would you want to be in love again?"
And of course, I said "Sure." But I followed up with pointing out that I doubted anyone would ever be in that relationship with me as I'm terminally weird (nice, and cheerful, but hopelessly weird and contrarian to a major extent).
She asked. When I got to the part about the Archangel Seraphial yelling at me to go to the pharmacy to buy witch hazel, I saw success.
We continued to talk, but she never did what I'd been concerned about (followed me home).
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