Managing Expectations

Pause. Uh, backtrack. 50,000 is too much. I’m way too busy to write a “novel” novel, you know? So let’s not do that. Making up my own rules, and with full knowledge that I’m able to edit this post at any time, I hereby commit to half-ass Nanowrimo. 25,000 words, 833 a day. At least one post a day. That sounds right, right? I don’t want to be a burden. I mean, I’m doing this for the readers since I know that most of you, also, lead busy lives of excitement and intrigue and working a lot. Let’s just say I have a lot to say. And at least for this month I shall rely on my gift for conciseness.

Smiling Eyes

The subtitle of this entry is “a fine example of the problems with revealing personal experiences in a public forum, especially as relates to sexual equality and hot chicks in the 21st century.”

Irish Smiling EyesSo I met this girl last Thursday. Mary Catherine. She’s Irish, full of spirit and sprite and more than a little bite. Master’s degree, English lit-er-a-ture. Carried around Jane Eyre the whole time I knew her, and had the romantic inclinations to match. We met not at a bar, but walking home from one. Thank God for girls with a poor sense of direction (and the male protection mechanism that helps their sorry situation). If not, I doubt that I’d have known her outside of a hostel stairwell. As it was, we feverishly debated feminism and modern sexual equality for the next hour. This is sometimes called “foreplay.” I was the first American with whom she could hold a conversation (so she said), and she spent a year in New York. This says a lot about me but perhaps more about New York.

By round about 2 o’clock, when all the others arrived home from the barbary-coast brewery/bar, I’m content to think I had her English-lit educated, female-favoring Gaelic greymatter headily haywire, helped certainly by our intermediate intoxication. Jane Eyre is justifiably lambastable—melodramatic moth-magnet that it is—necessitating nearly not-nice opining on my part. Being quite respectable, she took umbrage (very well). XXX yakking zinged zealosly zereafter.

Did I mention we had fun? Read more fun here.