In 2016 I would drop my dad off at work early in the morning, and then go eat breakfast at a restaurant. A pretty young waitress worked there. I will call her Janine. By this time, in 2016, I had this blog going, and thus the intrigue in my mind regarding whether anyone in my world read it without telling me. Janine was one of these people I wondered about. I would go on in my usual way about mean girls and past traumas and showing mean girls up with my game and so forth.
Starting in the Summer of 2016 Janine started acting rudely towards me. Her interactions with me while refilling my coffee or taking my order seemed a little surly and curt compared to the way she'd been towards me not long before. I decided to stop going to this particular restaurant and go other places or eat at home.
One morning in late October I decided to eat there again. Janine did some task at my table and said that it'd been a while since she'd seen me there. Yeah, well. I then overheard her talking to a male waiter in the wait station. Janine went on about how she'd moved to Austin at a certain age, what year that was, and so on, twice. This kind of talk from her to that waiter went on for the duration of the time I ate there that morning. I finally paid my check and as I left, this one other male waiter I kind of knew said to me, "Have a good one," in a wary tone.
I concluded that Janine and this handsome male waiter she told this personal information to while I ate there were already boyfriend and girlfriend, and that this information she told about when she moved to Austin, at what age she moved, etc. was just some dog and pony show for my benefit. I figured that Janine was trying to rope me into some cruel rejection game where this waiter she talked to was the winner and I was the loser. I figured that I was then supposed to vie for Janine's favors, maybe because Janine talked about breaking up with her boyfriend during the course of her spiel to this guy, or maybe I'd caught the breakup stuff on a previous visit. I don't know.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm paranoid, I get it. I'm paranoid. What to do? Well, I find the most constructive thing to do in such instances is as little as possible. I play to two or more possibilities, including a more mundane possibility that this is all in my head, and the multitude of possibilities, one highly charged, others not so much, dictate that I not do much of anything about any of this stuff.
I decided to stop patronizing this restaurant for the near future. Oh yeah, by the time I went to this restaurant and witnessed what I considered a dog and pony show, I'd written a song called, "My Girlfriend Is a Hatesong," that Janine's previous interactions with me had inspired. So maybe she'd talked about breaking with her boyfriend to other employees on a previous occasion while I dined there, all the while displaying rudeness towards me. Maybe. Got it? I remember that sequence of events in that order, because I had refrained from posting "My Girlfriend Is a Hatesong" on my blog, because, at first, I thought Janine might see it and get a kick out of it, then I thought better of it. So when I ate there that one time and Janine went on with personal information to this one waiter, I had written the song, but not yet posted it on my blog.
Well, when I decided to stop patronizing that restaurant for a long while, I felt free to post "My Girlfriend..." after about of month and half following that one visit. I hinted as to whom it was about in the intro to the lyrics and arrangement, and in later posts, I told a version of the story I just told. I didn't go back to that restaurant during those days at the time I knew Janine worked there for over a year and a half, if I recall. I saw her once more when I did go back, but I won't say anymore.
In one of the posts where I told the story of that whole thing. I talked about how Janine disgusted me. She came off as a typical progressive young woman who would support universal health care and other social safety net measures, vote for Bernie or whomever, and, oh yeah, march in the Women's March after Trump got in and wear the little kitty cat ears and all that, but when it came to this one particularly ugly, vicious aspect of dog eat dog capitalism that she really liked, this one aspect of dog eat dog capitalism that I've outlined in the above paragraphs, she was no progressive at all. She came off as the type that really liked this sort of shit. Okay? She disgusted me.
I mean, here I am, fifty something, overweight, but kind of presentable, really, and yeah, I have a major mental illness, if Janine and others at restaurant read my blog for real, yeah, they would know that, but all the same, just a customer at her place of employment. That is all. I never intended to try and get with her in any way. I would just go in and eat, tip her and the other staff well, and go on my way. She tried, in my opinion, to rope me into some cruel rejection game that said everything about her and nothing about me. She disgusted me. Like I said in another recent post. It helps to have a viable frame of reference, a frame of reference that includes a sizable number of women that I NE-VER approach for social reasons, so that I can make intelligent decisions about the Janines of the world in case I run into her kind down the road somewhere, somehow. She disgusted me. I don't need to say anymore.
Starting in the Summer of 2016 Janine started acting rudely towards me. Her interactions with me while refilling my coffee or taking my order seemed a little surly and curt compared to the way she'd been towards me not long before. I decided to stop going to this particular restaurant and go other places or eat at home.
One morning in late October I decided to eat there again. Janine did some task at my table and said that it'd been a while since she'd seen me there. Yeah, well. I then overheard her talking to a male waiter in the wait station. Janine went on about how she'd moved to Austin at a certain age, what year that was, and so on, twice. This kind of talk from her to that waiter went on for the duration of the time I ate there that morning. I finally paid my check and as I left, this one other male waiter I kind of knew said to me, "Have a good one," in a wary tone.
I concluded that Janine and this handsome male waiter she told this personal information to while I ate there were already boyfriend and girlfriend, and that this information she told about when she moved to Austin, at what age she moved, etc. was just some dog and pony show for my benefit. I figured that Janine was trying to rope me into some cruel rejection game where this waiter she talked to was the winner and I was the loser. I figured that I was then supposed to vie for Janine's favors, maybe because Janine talked about breaking up with her boyfriend during the course of her spiel to this guy, or maybe I'd caught the breakup stuff on a previous visit. I don't know.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm paranoid, I get it. I'm paranoid. What to do? Well, I find the most constructive thing to do in such instances is as little as possible. I play to two or more possibilities, including a more mundane possibility that this is all in my head, and the multitude of possibilities, one highly charged, others not so much, dictate that I not do much of anything about any of this stuff.
I decided to stop patronizing this restaurant for the near future. Oh yeah, by the time I went to this restaurant and witnessed what I considered a dog and pony show, I'd written a song called, "My Girlfriend Is a Hatesong," that Janine's previous interactions with me had inspired. So maybe she'd talked about breaking with her boyfriend to other employees on a previous occasion while I dined there, all the while displaying rudeness towards me. Maybe. Got it? I remember that sequence of events in that order, because I had refrained from posting "My Girlfriend Is a Hatesong" on my blog, because, at first, I thought Janine might see it and get a kick out of it, then I thought better of it. So when I ate there that one time and Janine went on with personal information to this one waiter, I had written the song, but not yet posted it on my blog.
Well, when I decided to stop patronizing that restaurant for a long while, I felt free to post "My Girlfriend..." after about of month and half following that one visit. I hinted as to whom it was about in the intro to the lyrics and arrangement, and in later posts, I told a version of the story I just told. I didn't go back to that restaurant during those days at the time I knew Janine worked there for over a year and a half, if I recall. I saw her once more when I did go back, but I won't say anymore.
In one of the posts where I told the story of that whole thing. I talked about how Janine disgusted me. She came off as a typical progressive young woman who would support universal health care and other social safety net measures, vote for Bernie or whomever, and, oh yeah, march in the Women's March after Trump got in and wear the little kitty cat ears and all that, but when it came to this one particularly ugly, vicious aspect of dog eat dog capitalism that she really liked, this one aspect of dog eat dog capitalism that I've outlined in the above paragraphs, she was no progressive at all. She came off as the type that really liked this sort of shit. Okay? She disgusted me.
I mean, here I am, fifty something, overweight, but kind of presentable, really, and yeah, I have a major mental illness, if Janine and others at restaurant read my blog for real, yeah, they would know that, but all the same, just a customer at her place of employment. That is all. I never intended to try and get with her in any way. I would just go in and eat, tip her and the other staff well, and go on my way. She tried, in my opinion, to rope me into some cruel rejection game that said everything about her and nothing about me. She disgusted me. Like I said in another recent post. It helps to have a viable frame of reference, a frame of reference that includes a sizable number of women that I NE-VER approach for social reasons, so that I can make intelligent decisions about the Janines of the world in case I run into her kind down the road somewhere, somehow. She disgusted me. I don't need to say anymore.
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