Monday, October 30, 2006

What Do You Look Like Again?

In order to allow my liver to regenerate a bit since I have been on an alcoholic liquid diet for the past two weeks, I took this weekend off. It was so nice to lie all snuggled in my bed on Saturday listening to the wind and rain and not have to be out in the bad weather running errands or having to wrangle my hair into an acceptable style and put an outfit together.

During my lie-in, while on the phone with a friend, I finally admitted to something that has plagued me for many years. I don’t remember what people look like. I know that sounds weird, but keep reading and you will learn even more about my deep, dark secret. I never said I was normal, and I know that my issue is more widespread than just me. There was a Sex and the City episode about it when Carrie meets Berger.

Whenever I meet someone new (usually a guy), I never remember what they look like. This tends to hinder me, especially if I go to the same places often (which I do and as an aside, I have also realized that I need to frequent different bars; i.e. not only those that are named after the streets that they are located on although for convenience they can’t be beat.), guys think I am being unfriendly or arrogant (aka bitchy) when I don’t say hello, or speak to them when it really is that I don’t remember what they look like. I’ll remember the conversation just fine, and some details of the person, but couldn’t pick them out of lineup.

By the way, this has nothing to do with alcohol. Basically this all stems from insecurity. Trust me; I have worked this out for a long time. When I am introduced to someone, I feel that I am unremarkable and guys won’t remember me, so I block what they look like out of my mind. Sounds good, right?

More than likely, though, it’s probably because on a subconscious level, I am not interested in what these dudes have to say; and forgetting what they look like is my minds’ way to tell me to move it along. I know that that sounds really rude, but it is the truth… so I guess what I wrote in the previous paragraphs is really true. I am a rude, arrogant bitch. Oh well, at least I think I'm cute, when my hair works with me. (: P)


P.S.: I think I have found an apartment with my name all over it. It is 1300 square feet; with 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a terrace off the kitchen that has a water view and a parking space in the garage. The building also has a pool, tennis court, gym facilities and a roof deck. Obviously it is not in Manhattan, because for the price it is listed for I would be lucky to get an oversized closet on the 9th floor in a 10 floor walkup.

P.P.S.: I'm planning my March vacation to Curacao, which I hope will not be overrun with Spring Breakers and parasites. I've already explained my luck with parasites. One of these days I'll tell you about my luck with boy Spring Breakers...long, long, long after graduation.