Two weeks

I'll give this person two weeks.  I'm talking about that former cashier, of course.  If something significant doesn't go down in two weeks, I'm concerning myself with point "A" and point "B" again.  Please don't think me foolish.  Last summer I talked some about how I thought she may feel about me, and someone in my world, a young woman I was attracted to, clearly labeled me as an asshole for even running stuff like that up the flag pole.  I could tell all of this by the look in this young woman's eyes and the expression on her face.  It made me think this former cashier was the wrong person after all.

I've been thought a fool many, many times.  "Jenna" comes to mind.  People thought I should have taken advantage of the "opportunities" she gave me to get with her.  Maybe Jenna, given the personal history I came to believe about her the sicker I got during the summer of 1992; maybe Jenna needed something other than yet another guy unwittingly tripping over that personal history in the act of "going for it."  But hey, maybe I'm the asshole.  Maybe I should've just concerned myself with getting laid.

So yeah, two weeks.  It might not even need to be all that much to buy her a little more time and consideration after the two weeks are up.  We'll see.  While I might not exactly approve of the methods this former cashier possibly employed to jockey for her old place at the table, I have a feeling "by any means necessary" was her and her buddies' credo on that score.  Okay, so here we go.  Two weeks it is.