Thursday, Aug. 26, 2004
The Polish Girl, Again., posted at 11:45 p.m.
Epiphany in Baltimore has moved to epiphanyinbaltimore.blogspot.com Second entry of the night, my gym trip is over.Note: Jenny, I know I gave you this address in a moment of weakness, and I do not mind at all that you read, but you should probably skip this entry until further notice. I'm trusting you on this. It's not about you, so no worries there.
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So, the Polish girl wants me to take her to the Baltimore Powwow tomorrow. This girl... I don't know what to do about her.
First off, I don't have any sort of torturous feelings about her. Nothing more than a crush, and that totally diminished when she got married. Yes, she's hot. And she can do things to me with her eyes that most girls cannot do with their whole bodies. And, speaking of bodies, well, wow... Not to mention the accent. And the view as she's walking away is rather pleasant, if you know what I mean.
But... she balances her quirky sense of humor and fairly thoughtful commentary on the world with complete idiocy about her personal life, and married this ne'er-do-well a few months ago. So my (minor) hopes were dashed. She's still a pretty good friend.
Anyhow, he hit her yesterday. She called the police. I ask her if it had happened before. She answers, "Well, he was asleep. It was an accident." I tell her that she's smarter than that. She says she knows. She kicked him out and hasn't seen or talked with him since it happened two days ago.
She wants me to take her to this thing tomorrow. I guess I'm going to. She's a sweet girl. I really don't know what it means other than this girl seems to know that she has me, along with many other men, wrapped around her little finger, and I don't really know what she has planned. I wonder about her agenda. I wonder if I'm going to be a pawn or if she just needs a friend. I do not mind being a stable figure in somebody's life. I'm good at that. I feel like it's part of my job as a teacher in an urban environment, and since I'm so happy as a teacher, maybe I should translate it more often to my personal life. You know, I am a rock. Let's hope I'm not an island, too.
When she asked me, she batted her eyelashes and executed her pro pout. I couldn't say no. I told her I'd call her. She said that if I didn't, she'd call me every ten minutes until I said yes.
I'm perhaps overthinking what should be a non-issue. But part of me really does want to rescue her, wants her to see that all men are not jobless scuzzballs who hit when you try to wake them up in the morning because it's time to work and you can't support the both of you on your own with your crummy waitressing job where you're lucky to make $31 working for a day. Wants her to see that she should be going back to school, finishing her dissertation, and not be in this holding pattern she's in now because she's smarter than that. And, of course, part of me just wants to see if she really is the perfect size.
Anyhow, we're going to this tomorrow. Her husband is skinny and dopey, but is, ahem, involved in the drug trade industry so I'm sure he has friends who I don't want to meet anywhere. She has gotten threatening phone calls that were later called just "jokes." I don't know what she's doing. She told me she hasn't told anyone else about the hitting thing, the calling the police thing. Just me. And that her life can't get any worse. And I just want to tell her that she shouldn't have married this punk, what's wrong with you, you had this nice guy of Polish descent right in front of you. But no. I don't. I am paralyzed. And I really shouldn't say that, anyway. And when I'm 46 and living alone with just my cats, looking forward to my weekly dinners with mom and having a bomb tied around my neck, after which my neighbors say, "Oh yeah, he was a really nice guy, sort of quiet, but mowed his lawn real well," then I guess I'll finally regret it.
(Don't worry, I wrote that with a smile on my face. I'm actually pretty happy right now. Very excited about school to begin. Content, healthy, all that shit.)