In an effort to assuage everyday fears by talking them out and move forward with this 'emotional growth' thing...here it is again.
Update: Married. Dog. Painting.
I went on a date with this guy years ago, while Larry and I were broken up. I call him 'Wolfless Wolf Shirt' in conversation have yet to see him since our date. We're Facebook friends (for some reason?) though so I get updates on his life from time to time.
He still has a mullet, but now does standup full time. He has a podcast. He tells stories from his life for a living.Every time he posts something new I wonder 'maybe that awful date where we bought cat litter and I questioned the flames on his shoes made this week's podcast?' Maybe.
I went and reread journals from exes etc and saw myself in their entries. Some flattering, some eh, some places where I was left out of a story I know I participated in. It makes me wonder how many stories have been built around stupid shoes I've worn. Am I someone's past Wolfless wolf shirt? Am I 'buttless hot pants?' Is that conceited? Yes. It probably is.
I have a feeling I'm in a graphic novel, since I went on a date with a guy who had written a missed connection about me who then went on to write about his Internet dating. Fun fact: he hated his dad. He was 'guy who still hates his dad and tells that story for like 2 hours during a first date then tries to touch my boobs.'
Ugh, anyone can throw a wolf on a shirt. These hot pants will always sag.