Flaky Women

I seem to be a magnet for flighty women (with sexual identity crises). I mean in Canada there was Jody (that wished to be called Sandra [pronounced “Sondra”?], only to change her mind back again); before her, there was a blond that could have been a partial albino given her degree of “blondness”.

To elaborate on one of them, I honestly can’t remember the blond’s name. What I do remember is that I met her at a house party held by skater and punk friends. Most everyone at the party were my brother’s band members, high school friends, and past junior high school classmates (of age anyway).

I hadn’t even noticed her as I was deeply engrossed in conversation with two dudes with red mohawks wearing leather jackets, black patches held with bobby pins, and knee-high Dr. Martins. Maybe it was the Big Bear because we compared our big noses and each was bent on convincing the others and achieving consensus on whose was larger. We probably debated the matter for hours while we covered the finer details, as each presented his supporting evidence.

It was within this setting where the blond’s friend asked me twice to walk on over to the living room and talk to the blond. I was flabbergasted at finding a shy Canadian girl. I recall being told, “Just talk to her”. Upon acting on this, I heard a loud female voice yell out, “Get your frik’n hands off of my girlfriend!!”.

If there’s one question that’s left a lasting impression, it’s one that (straight) Desiree planted on me while on a date, at a pub with a peanut shell laden floor. She asked, “What are your intentions with me”, as I coughed down my drink. I’ll always remember and appreciate her straight to the point quality. It’s with this frankness that I’ve often taken to be forward with these girls (colloquial for women) and planted my own, “So if you like girls, what are you doing out with me?”. They’ll usually answer something to the effect, “Well, I usually just like girls, but in your case I’m willing to make an exception (or I don’t know why I like you but I do)”. As flattering as this might be, I’ve found these girls to be flaky at best, confused as to what they really want.

Don’t get me wrong, the one quality of the old crew was that you could be as odd as can be without fear of chastising. (I recall one girl that frequently dressed in long black and red velvet dresses and skirts, long pointy black hats, fiery red hair with pointy leather black high-heels.) Chastising is not my purpose here. I’m just surprised to see that I attract the same “sort” of flaky, or indecisive, women in Chile as I do in Canada.

Maurice Cepeda

P.S. If someone is wondering, people are not mentioned by their real names in this article.

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