curiosity never killed anything

look, I don't know how you did this and I don't want to, but it's totally unnecessary to make me feel like I fucked up here.

I would have fucked you anyway, XXX. you knew that. so there was no reason to go on and on about the last time we slept together and everything else. and there was certainly no reason to fall off the map.

your silence makes me feel like an asshole.

just say something. how about, "hey, I thought you were cool, until I talked to you..." or "I love my girlfriend you slut, so back off..." or whatever. ok? but this silence is awkward for everyone. or maybe just for me, but either way it's totally unnecessary so just spit it out. I definitely won't be broken (if that's what you're thinking), but I definitely won't feel as embarrassed as I do right now. so please just say it. ok?

dear reader, what’s worse: letting a fear of awkwardness keep you from saying what you really want or having a compulsion to say what you want (even if that's just wanting to know what the other person wants) despite a tremendous potential for awkwardness and/or personal humiliation? let’s discuss!

imagine, if you will, waking up--say around 6 am--drunk, not entirely sure why you're wearing your winter coat and nothing else, and saying to yourself, "obviously this is the perfect time to write some e-mails." you crawl to your desk, send a couple furious missives, and crawl back to bed idignant and incoherent and trying to keep the room from spinning.

oh the shame, dear reader, when you finally wake up. you really have to stop doing that. in fact, maybe you should make some weird and pathetic attempt to reclaim your shame through some lame narcissistic blog. totally. that's a great idea. you're on it.

but wierdly, one of the furious e-mails you've sent is gone. vanished! and while you'd like to believe you'd imagined it, you know you blurrily pressed send. but it's the most shameful one and you really want it. what do you do?

well, I certainly fucking hope you'd suck it up and ask the recipient to forward it back to you. I mean, at this point, you really can't embarrass yourself any more. and the best part is he will! (thanks, recipient)

what the fuck am I talking about, dear reader? I'll tell you: somehow this e-mail drunkenly illustrates a problem I’d never articulated before. I mean, yes, yes it's embarrassing on that "why doesn't he like me?"/questions you shouldn't be asking kind of level, but whatever--that’s not the point. the point is that most people are absurdly afraid of an awkward moment and it’s so fucking stupid I can hardly stand it.

look, if the recipient had said he didn't want to talk to me, I would have respected that. (after all you really can’t argue with it, can you?) however, he did nothing of the sort. instead, he let me write him these dumb e-mails and just didn't respond. so I embarrassingly kept writing. oops.

but really what the fuck? is it that awkward to write a girl and say stop? don't send these anymore? go away? no, it is not. and, dear reader, maybe you can relate when I say that nothing makes me more insane than people who pussy out at the first hint of awkwardness. in fact, all I want to do in that situation is make everything far more awkward than it ever was in the first place just to show the person how not awkward whatever they didn’t want to do actually was by compaison. and in this case that meant revisiting the awkwardness of the ridiculous e-mail by asking for it back. well, I guess sending the e-mail in the first place was exacerbating the awardness too. so it's a double.

I mean, have you ever tried making a situation more awkward? if not you really should because it’s both fantastically gratifying and highly entertaining. time slows down allowing you to really feel every excruciating moment. like being a teenager again. revel in it. even if you don’t get what you want (or what you think you want), you know for sure that you’re alive. isn’t that worth sacrificing a little dignity from time to time? feeling alive? I think so.