Damn my good Doppleganger.

I must admit, I have delayed this entry by a couple days. Trying to figure how I was going to tell this story. I realized along the way, that I am confused about the whole thing, not just on how to tell it.

Of course, I am a bit of a drama lover, so I will attempt to not pretty it all up too much.

Bookworm. You are my nemesis. Or my good doppleganger. One or the other. You decide.

Cards on Friday night. Good night. We had some fun. The Jerk was working late, so I had the chance to hang out with DC and his bro for a bit. It is always weird to hang out with siblings. They have their own communication methods - like those twins who make up their own language or something. I don't understand siblings at all - probably because I have none. It was interesting none the less.

The night goes on. Bookworm shows up, which he has been doing more of lately. The joke is that he is my nemesis - because he shows up and wins all our dimes. Over and over. Probably because he is so good, his Karma kills us all or something like that. Needless to say, I get lippy with him about it, in a friendly funny way of course.

A few weeks ago, I noticed that he really pays attention to me at these nights. As a non-smoker, he comes to the smoking patio with me all the time. "To keep you company". His nice guy routine of course. I didn't pay much attention, because we have been down this road before. His attention, his ignorance . Flip flop. Flip Flop.

I thought I had figured it out. Condescension attention or something. Nice when people around, crazy when no one is around. Like that crazy New Year's kiss thing. Or the hand at the small of my back at parties. Some sort of pitty the new lonely girl thing or something.

But now I don't know. I think about all the times he has said things about my obvious growing affection for DW. He seems to approve of my taking in the stray dog routine, but also warns me or chastises me for falling for DWs crap again. Of course, he would know, they have known each other for like 16 years or something.

They are like me and LimeRickie I suspect. Complex and all that crap.

Back to Friday night.

End of the night is drawing closer. DC invites me back to his place for a bit, so we can get into the "business". The "business" basically means we are going to hang out and do drugs. Relatively bad drugs too. I think we all know I am no angel at this point. If you need anymore help in figuring out what kind - there are many songs that talk about it... Eric Clapton, Grateful dead, and of course, my new favourite... Gnarls Barkley. ( Get that album!!)

Also, the Jerk also suggests I stay behind after Bookworm and the kids go home, for the same purpose.

I like these ideas. Spending alone time with DC? How could I deny myself? And the Jerk, well, since our friendship has been less than solid lately, this would have been a good opportunity to air our laundry...
but alas, it was not mean to be.

Bookworm wanted to share a cab home with me. Makes sense since we both live east of the apartment. Only I don't want to tell Mr. Morals why I want to stay behind, which would most likely come up. Though he ticks me off with all his touchy feely ways, I have a respect. Damn him.

So I leave and catch the cab. It is late anyways, there will be other days. Mind you, I am also a little drunk. Not too much but I am warm from the Rye for sure.

I find that we are sitting close in the cab. I tilt my head and lean on him. Why not - I am tired. But it is uncomfortable as I am sitting too tall so I sit back up. This is the weird part.
He readjusts himself to be more conducive to me doing this. And moves right up against me. We end up cuddling in the cab all the way to his place.
Right before he gets out, he takes my hand in an all old school way. Almost like he is going to kiss my hand goodnight or something. He doesn't do this. But he does suggest that we get together sometime soon.

Then he is gone.

I think I hate him for his flip flop. It confuses me.

Though, I have given some thought as to why I do actually care about all this flirtfest/rejection game he does do. Why do I care? Why do I think about it.

He is no bad boy - and of course, over the years, that is what I gravitate towards. The messy ones.
Bookworm - he is the least messy of people.

Either way, we shall see, as I am leaving right now to go and meet the gang for some post baseball drinks. He will be there, amongst a ton of others.

whatever. This is the story. You tell me?