When you live the life of a hermit, communication skills generally become rather rudimentary. Mine usually ride the range of technology. I feel safe in the world of black and white blinking cursors. There, things are black and white. What I write is what I mean. If there is a suggestion of something deeper, it can be uncovered in the permanent pages. Face to face conversations, and (god forbid!) phone calls, make my life a living hell. Suddenly body language can tell a story that contrasts tone of voice. You can lose yourself not only in the juxtaposition of contradictions, but you may also lose the tried and true signs of attraction—signs which I recently sleuthed the Internet for. (A bit ridiculous? I was desperate. And I flirt like a broken faucet.)
I should have a button that says, “Don’t talk to me. I’m Awkward.” Someone better watch out.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Season 4 ixx: Truce?

Setting: Moka, North side

I decided not to leave things on a sour note. I do have to make some effort. After all, I don't want to return Dexter in a rush of anger. And, since coffee is my universal peace offering, I white flagged him a double of the rich and bold. I was feeling generous.

Plus, I haven't quite decided if I am going to tell him tonight.
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