I went on my first date with Veronica Ortega in the spring of 1985. I took her to Kerbey Lane Cafe. As we went through our dinner ritual, our conversation became quite lively, which I found very stimulating. At some point, as I looked at her while we talked, I exclaimed, "I love you!," to myself in my mind. A few years ago, at Cheatham Street Warehouse, while performing on stage at the songwriter's circle, I said, "People ask me, 'Richy Vegas, why do you write so many songs hatin' on the women?'" I then related to the audience how I decided I was in love with Veronica Ortega on our first date in the spring of 1985, and how that might have something to do with it.
This very, very attractive young woman in my world, who I decided managed to play me for a couple of weeks there, flirted with me in a pretty major way, and that kicked things to the kind of level I just talked about in regards to my date at Kerbey Lane Cafe with Veronica Ortega in the spring of 1985. This very, very attractive young woman told me I was the coolest guy ever. I had sold her a copy of one of my comic books, and this was her review of the book the next time I saw her.
While I was in New York City a couple of weeks ago. I texted a friend a glowing, idealized assessment of where I thought this very, very attractive young woman was coming from with the attention she was paying to me. I look at that text message now, and it reminds me of the same state I was in on my date with Veronica in 1985 when I exclaimed "I love you!" in my mind. I look at that text message and conclude that I was under some kind of a spell.
So last week, I decided to blow that very, very attractive young woman off. I did it just to see what would happen. For shits and grins, really. It was only later that I looked at that text message and decided that I probably did the right thing. I want to emphasize this one point. Very, very attractive young women flirting with me in a pretty brazen manner is not so much the problem. The problem resides more in how I process such over the top flirtations, and how I then respond. I think holding myself at arm's length in regards to this very, very attractive young woman turned out to be a pretty intelligent decision. It allowed me the room to guess what all might be occurring, and what to do about it.
This very, very attractive young woman in my world, who I decided managed to play me for a couple of weeks there, flirted with me in a pretty major way, and that kicked things to the kind of level I just talked about in regards to my date at Kerbey Lane Cafe with Veronica Ortega in the spring of 1985. This very, very attractive young woman told me I was the coolest guy ever. I had sold her a copy of one of my comic books, and this was her review of the book the next time I saw her.
While I was in New York City a couple of weeks ago. I texted a friend a glowing, idealized assessment of where I thought this very, very attractive young woman was coming from with the attention she was paying to me. I look at that text message now, and it reminds me of the same state I was in on my date with Veronica in 1985 when I exclaimed "I love you!" in my mind. I look at that text message and conclude that I was under some kind of a spell.
So last week, I decided to blow that very, very attractive young woman off. I did it just to see what would happen. For shits and grins, really. It was only later that I looked at that text message and decided that I probably did the right thing. I want to emphasize this one point. Very, very attractive young women flirting with me in a pretty brazen manner is not so much the problem. The problem resides more in how I process such over the top flirtations, and how I then respond. I think holding myself at arm's length in regards to this very, very attractive young woman turned out to be a pretty intelligent decision. It allowed me the room to guess what all might be occurring, and what to do about it.
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