Saturday, September 24, 2005
Put us to the test
It's... a test of decency he said.
(Or perhaps, the limits of decency)
Again the words were vague, but grasped implicitly.
The question was not - what is the test, but who is the tester - and who is at test?
The answer was evident (until several drinks later) - He was the tester.
*****
Don't waste your time on her. I won't waste my time on her.
She didn't understand.
It wasn't about time, or money spent - what is the measure of a person's... worth?
That was the question that had to be answered, and time and money were quite secondary to the answer.
*****
And so she declined his help, on the grounds of not being able to pay him back for his help. He wasn't sure if he'd been expecting that.
That too was a strange form of decency which he had always sensed about her - she had passed the test again. She did not speak of it again; she did not ask for his help.
And yet... her decency was one he would never understand.
Nonetheless, what was to be a clinically delivered, emotionless gesture was transformed into a heartfelt gift of apology, purchased on the fly and delivered on the wing. No time to pause, but this is me, really giving you a gift...
*****
It was beautiful. Tastefully dark blue, with flowers trailing down one hip. It was gorgeous.
It cost six hundred dollars. But if they'd had it in the right size... he'd have bought it.
Money was no objection when it came to seeking, and finding answers.
*****
I know absolutely nothing about shopping for women's clothes.
That's probably a good thing.
Cough.
Once upon a very long time ago, she was going to drag me out to help find her (another her) a dinner dress from zara.
It would have been... perfect. I've always trusted her judgement unquestioningly. Everything from the size, to the "extra considerations" (including wraparound bra and heels) would have been considered... from all angles. A single chance meeting would have given the precise bust and hip measurements.
I've always trusted your judgement, dozer.
Laugh.
TImes had changed though, as he read her reply. No, she would not help him. Don't waste your time on her.
*****
In the aftermath he stopped to wonder.
Who and what had he really been putting to the test...
her decency? ("User"? or not?)
Or his faith in himself to act with magnamity, regardless of her answer.
Is it even true magnamity, this double-edged weapon I wield...
... perhaps the most honest and precious thing about a present, is not the present itself, but the intention of the giver.
Perhaps I am secretly glad that I passed the test as well.
At the end of the day, regardless of all that happened, and all that should not have happened - when the moment came I gave, simply to help. And was glad to.
I have not yet been beaten by my own cynicism.
*****
So in several days time I am to meet an uberbabe, who is, according to my newfound german friend - "uhh".
Complete with hand motion. Which looks a bit like doing the moonwalk sans elbow movements.
"Uhh".
Vacant, faraway eyes. Pause in conversation.
I think that's german for ooh la la.
Nevermind that she's possibly some gorgeous (I wonder about his taste in women...) SPG looking to raise a blonde haired baby.
I'm sure I may not get her number in the all of three seconds he took, but perhaps in about thirty years she'll come around....
haha.
*****
So here I am, blogging from LMDs notebook, thanks to my brother dismantling all traces of internet connectivity at home in the pretense of "upgrading".
I am disappointingly sober, and her dog keeps trying to eat my feet.
Nonetheless, it is pleasant here, and I am glad my "good stuff" magic mushroom moonshine medicine is helping her with her pain.
heh heh heh.
(Or perhaps, the limits of decency)
Again the words were vague, but grasped implicitly.
The question was not - what is the test, but who is the tester - and who is at test?
The answer was evident (until several drinks later) - He was the tester.
*****
Don't waste your time on her. I won't waste my time on her.
She didn't understand.
It wasn't about time, or money spent - what is the measure of a person's... worth?
That was the question that had to be answered, and time and money were quite secondary to the answer.
*****
And so she declined his help, on the grounds of not being able to pay him back for his help. He wasn't sure if he'd been expecting that.
That too was a strange form of decency which he had always sensed about her - she had passed the test again. She did not speak of it again; she did not ask for his help.
And yet... her decency was one he would never understand.
Nonetheless, what was to be a clinically delivered, emotionless gesture was transformed into a heartfelt gift of apology, purchased on the fly and delivered on the wing. No time to pause, but this is me, really giving you a gift...
*****
It was beautiful. Tastefully dark blue, with flowers trailing down one hip. It was gorgeous.
It cost six hundred dollars. But if they'd had it in the right size... he'd have bought it.
Money was no objection when it came to seeking, and finding answers.
*****
I know absolutely nothing about shopping for women's clothes.
That's probably a good thing.
Cough.
Once upon a very long time ago, she was going to drag me out to help find her (another her) a dinner dress from zara.
It would have been... perfect. I've always trusted her judgement unquestioningly. Everything from the size, to the "extra considerations" (including wraparound bra and heels) would have been considered... from all angles. A single chance meeting would have given the precise bust and hip measurements.
I've always trusted your judgement, dozer.
Laugh.
TImes had changed though, as he read her reply. No, she would not help him. Don't waste your time on her.
*****
In the aftermath he stopped to wonder.
Who and what had he really been putting to the test...
her decency? ("User"? or not?)
Or his faith in himself to act with magnamity, regardless of her answer.
Is it even true magnamity, this double-edged weapon I wield...
... perhaps the most honest and precious thing about a present, is not the present itself, but the intention of the giver.
Perhaps I am secretly glad that I passed the test as well.
At the end of the day, regardless of all that happened, and all that should not have happened - when the moment came I gave, simply to help. And was glad to.
I have not yet been beaten by my own cynicism.
*****
So in several days time I am to meet an uberbabe, who is, according to my newfound german friend - "uhh".
Complete with hand motion. Which looks a bit like doing the moonwalk sans elbow movements.
"Uhh".
Vacant, faraway eyes. Pause in conversation.
I think that's german for ooh la la.
Nevermind that she's possibly some gorgeous (I wonder about his taste in women...) SPG looking to raise a blonde haired baby.
I'm sure I may not get her number in the all of three seconds he took, but perhaps in about thirty years she'll come around....
haha.
*****
So here I am, blogging from LMDs notebook, thanks to my brother dismantling all traces of internet connectivity at home in the pretense of "upgrading".
I am disappointingly sober, and her dog keeps trying to eat my feet.
Nonetheless, it is pleasant here, and I am glad my "good stuff" magic mushroom moonshine medicine is helping her with her pain.
heh heh heh.
