The Whisperer of the Abyss:
Sandy’s Never-Ending Monday Rants - Journal Entry 24
Fiction that's based on real life. All names were changed, just in case.
Remember Pasta?
Remember Pasta? He called me from a bar this weekend. Like a century has passed, and Pasta called. He was like, “My friends and I are at a bar.”
I was like, “So… why would it matter to me that you are at a bar?” I already forgot all about him. I didn’t know why he was contacting me. And then I was like, “Pasta, why can’t you meet a woman at a bar? There are so many beautiful women there. See, I go on this tiny pathetic computer application because I don’t go out to bars or clubs.”
Pasta was like, “I can’t show those women to my wonderful mother.”
I was like, “Ok, are you up for a second date?” I knew no plan would solidify. Technically, I stayed true to my rule. Remember Pasta's family gathering - he never invited me. He wanted me to be there, but he never followed through. So that is how this person is. There will be no second date for him, and he'll never contact me again because he's a lukewarm kind of person.
Pasta then asked, “Sure! Are you ok with a second date?”
I confirmed, “Yes.” And then added, “I have to go, busy on my weekend doing shopping – need to carry things. Will go for a walk with a friend. Bye.”
That was it. I saw Pasta driving by in his car, waving at me later that day when I went for a walk with my friend, Chubaka.
I waved back.
My friend Chubaka doesn’t look like one, she is a beautiful person, but only from the outside. Thus, I gave her the name, Chubaka, here. She is a covert narcissist, and it is all I will say here about her. No one is proud of a disability like narcissism.
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