It was the suit that got me the gig
It was the tear that got me the girl
I'm a sheep in this wolf's clothing
I'm a picture that I'm holding
Of someone who is cool
-- The Odds
I've never been able to understand women -- likes and dislikes, wants and needs, what have you. I guess in the past, when it came down to it, things ended up being ruled by hormones, but the reality of life, beyond instinct and impulse, is still difficult for me to cope with.
Now, I operate on a few different levels. There's what I feel and think -- sometimes both the same, sometimes radically different. There's my public persona, which has been in effect for about 30 years. Hey, if it works, don't change it. But how I represent myself conflicts directly with what I truly am.
Take for example, this morning. I decided (against my better judgement) to have breakfast at the castle this morning. I have nothing against my cousins, but I'm just way to old to be doing the brat pack dorm thing. Merlin and I did that for years at Berkeley and almost killed each other on more than one occasion. (This is before, of course, I actually did try to kill him, but that's different.) So there, I have to be Irritable, scoundrel Me, not just to deal with the situation, but because I don't deal well with crowds.
It's all about facades, see.
The only time I'm able to drop it is when I'm alone, or sometimes with Connie. Problem is, I need to do the same with Quinn. Over the last couple of days I've been going back and forth between what I really am and what I want people to think I am. It's not uncommon; I'm sure Darien is the same way. Of course, he just might be a complete asshole altogether.
And this is where things get dicey. Can I risk showing her my true self? I don't even really know if she really digs me or not, or if she does, maybe it's the just the persona. Right now I ain't gots the balls to just come out and ask, but I think we're dancing around the whole issue. At least I think that's what was happening at the market last night.
Crap. Feelings suck. Well, not really, but dealing with them sometimes does. All I do know is that if we ever go out again, I'm leaving my Trumps at home.