smokingboot

Bad enough that I've missed loads of fun with

bad_moon_rising and Doug sans lj, worse that the usual monthly merriment has arrived with surprising vehemence. My uterus has metamorphosed into an iron concertina, even now being played by the Old Witch of Entrailia, oompah band in the background. Menstruation is the single greatest argument I know against intelligent design.

No, it's no good, I have written a long entry about my last shift and deleted it, because it is not what is on my mind. Darkened by this awful wuthering in my guts, I cannot quite forget a conversation I had this week. See, most of my friendships either last or blow up; they don't fade away. There was one that seemed to fade, and it made me very disconsolate in its time. Chirpy chum of the shampoo bottle incident shed a devastating light on it:

Chum: Did you sleep with him?
Me: No!
Chum: Did he ask you to?
Me: No...well, not exactly...something like that but not really...he wouldn't have minded but...
Chum:But he wanted to?
Me: Possibly but our friendship was much stronger, you know, than that, sort of...
Chum: So much stronger that it faded away after you said no?
Me: Oh shush! No!
Me thinking: Oh crap. Yes.

Now, when this mood lifts I will know she was talking nonsense. Friendship is real, it doesn't peter out because of something so silly. But right now, I am sitting here wrestling with demons and thinking, Son of a bitch!