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I suppose I just always hated the passive aggressive psychology. I was suppose to figure her moods by sensitivity. You will sense what I want if we are truly soul-mates or something. They didn't understand how complicated I was. The machinations were monotonous. But one may-come to understand the concept. I am to be the mountain-man, but she wants it her own-way, without compromising the mighty-joe-hung bedtime manner. The sensitive stud. I was not to be a truly penile cripple. It was my preference and it should be hers. I was she and she was me. Seems like a perfect couple. I was a man who would have to be a woman. She was a woman that was to be a man. We are complimentary four. Sitting up quickly, she lifted the blankets and peeked at my sleepy-hollow sentry. Oh my God I thought, this is the black-Friday. She will make assumptions. This will go on my permanent record. Black-marked goods. And I knew, when we slept off-road the next-night, because why the expense of a hotel, as we could save a little money here. I am not rich - may have been the logic. The horn will not blow at midnight, as a knock-off of the famous Jack Benny line would have it. What did she learn with that glance ? It did for me play to the script. It was suppose to, that was my casting-call. But apparently it was not the part that she would audition for.
I remember a restaurant in anywhere land. There was a waiter who was star-struck. This might have been Bulgaria, a country so isolated as to make an almost never-seen snow-leopard envious. You could see-feel-hear the desire for stardom, as exuded from this guy's every-pore.
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