Not Target. Yet.

Well, I got stood up. Again. By the same guy. I should just tear his name out of my Rolodex and never think of him again. Of course, this competes with the idea of putting him in a coma (not a healthy thought for an aspiring pacifist) or at least wishing I had an older brother who could "talk" to him. Alas, neither is a possibility. I even have competing advice from two recently-published books: He's Just Not That Into You by two two writers from Sex and the City, and Kiss My Tiara by Susan Jane Gilman. HJNTIY (which I pronounce hijinty) says that if he isn't calling, he's not thinking about you and you shouldn't be thinking about him, either. Don't call him for any reason. Ms. Gilman sums her philosophy up pretty well: "An ounce of closure is worth a pound of pride." And oh, yes, I am a prideful person. I have been humiliated in my own eyes, and that is a neat trick if you can pull it off. So, why humiliate myself further? Because like the stereotypical female, I crave closure. I want to give him an earful. I want to hear what grade-A Cuban smoke he's going to try to blow up my ass this time. I guess since I have so much pride, I wouldn't miss a pound. Or several.

Quincy, a good friend of mine and a fellow artist, asked me last night why I was still bothering with this loser. Because I've known him for so long. Because he came from a very dark period of my life and a relationship with him might mean there was something salvageable from that period besides bitter experience. Because I haven't been in a relationship for nearly four years. Sad, hunh? I didn't go to grad school to meet men, and I certainly didn't. I don't go into bars by myself. My online dating experiences have been dismal to nonexistent. When I got out of my last relationship, I felt very liberated. I still like doing what I want to do when I want to do it, having a nap whenever I feel like, being able to leave the bathroom door open, but it would be nice to share the occasional meal with someone else. Among other things. So that's why I'm still spinning my wheels. And that's why I'm pissed.

For those of you who were hoping I was going to kick Target's ass in the near future, stay tuned. The next post will be all Target. Promise.