Running with the devil . . .

This post actually has nothing to do with the title, but that shitty song's been, er, running through my head for half an hour. Why won't the '80s just go away? Except for old Astros uniforms--the orange-yellow-blue striped ones--those were/are the shit.

Reid was giving me a ride back from his place today (Grady had my car again, of course) when I saw married history girl walking with her husband over by Crown and Anchor. The guy was about my height, with about my complexion, with my color hair, except it was much, much shaggier. Maybe I was right to think that she didn't find me totally repulsive. It's satisfying in a frustrating way to feel I might have, given different circumstances, had a shot with someone who totally awed me. Now, it's probably to all of you that I'm even still thinking about her like this, but I never have this kind of thing with the girls who really blow me away. The girls I've dated I've usually had more of an "interest" in beforehand. But you know that borderline-obsessive crush, that throwback to adolescence, being "middle-schooled" by somone, to verb it, those girls rarely, if ever, respond to me. So this is nice.

Last week, a couple guys from my history class stuck around after everyone else had left. Mike and Joh threw back a couple Modelo Especials and we talked about the class, or rather, what we thought of the people in the class. There was the guy we all hated at the beginning of class, but grew to like; the guy who was really damn nice, but dumb as a cocker spaniel; the vietnam-vet grad student who'd "been in the shit" and was now trying to make sense of his experiences, who we resepected if not always agreed with. Then I said, "Man, wasn't the most disappointing part of the class when you found out Shannon was married?"

"She's married?" Jon asked. "I thought she was just fianceed."

"No, man," Mike responded, "I told you she was married."

"Aw, shit. Oh well, Elena's got a better figure."

"Yeah, you should have hit that," Mike said.

Then I told them about how I was especially frustrated because Shannon was just my type and all that jazz. Then we started talking about something else, anime or Adult Swim or something. An hour or so later, when they were getting ready to leave, they told me they'd call me next time they were going to have one of their frequent parties. "Bad ass," I said. "Say, I'm thinking about having a barbecue over here a couple weeks after school's done. I'll send y'all an email. I'm probably gonna invite the whole class."

Mike nodded as he finished his beer. "Yeah, man, bitches get divorced."

So, enough about Shannon. I'll just leave it at that: Bitches get divorced.