Sometimes these cogitations still amaze
The troubled midnight and the moon's repose.
After work, the Maddening Angel called me. She had endured a rather trying evening, dealing with the various bodily functions of her cats and her roommates' dogs (pretty much everything, and I mean everything, that can come out of an animal did so within a one-hour period, and she had to clean it all up). I drove down to her place to commiserate and condole, and we talked and had a glass of wine, then met up again at the Hangout. I bought her a few drinks, as she is still poor. Friar was there, of course, and the three of us had fun laughing and playing video trivia. Then MA excused herself, and Friar and I played golf until --- inadvisably, I know --- the wee hours of the morning.
Whatever attraction or interest MA may have had in the past is gone now, it's obvious from our interactions. They're more formal and stilted now, and her body language and conversational topics make it clear I'm no longer the constant companion of day or night that I once was. However, Friar's wise admonishments about her coupled with my own reevaluation of past interactions via the proverbial 20/20, have cooled my raging crush into a wistful, vague sort of wishful thinking. If I were the man that she wanted, I would not be the man that I am. Wise man, that Lyle.