Numbers

Sometimes it is a bad thing to be me, except not sometimes.  New new girl started at work, the old new girl suggested her for employment.  She is nothing special to look at, short, average looks, below average cup size— as if that is important.  She is unquestionably intelligent, obviously quirky and difficult to place as to her age.  Younger than me to be sure, but who knows.  She looks like a young teenager, but is at least in her early twenties; she could be in her late twenties too.  She is a mystery, one to be unraveled.  

What I know is that she has been in Boonieville for a couple of years.  Someone said that she went to school to learn Thai Massage, or something, for three years.  I am assuming that she completed high school first, so that would make her 23, but who is to say that anyone is right, she could have completed the course through correspondence so she might be only 21.  

What I do know is that I am so lonely here and I am so thoroughly not in love that there is a vacuum in my heart space yearning to be filled and quirky and intelligent, for me is a powerful combination.  Except I am moving in a few months and I don't know where but I know it is far away from here and starting something is off the table, unless it is brief is off the table.  Age is just a number, but it really isn't.  I will be 42 soon.  21 is half of 42.  24 is a dyslexic 42.  28 is 66.7% of 42.  

She knows how to fly a plane and sail a boat.  Bicycles everywhere, like me.  I am strangely drawn to her and my mind is playing tricks on me telling me that she is in to me, but I cannot trust my intuition because it lies to me.  My emotions are turning on a dime.  All the while the old new girl, the new girl from last year is teasing me, "accidentally" bumping into me and reminding me about swimming last year, hugging me in private and melting into my arms, like that rabid wild dog that; she is the proverbial dog that bites that hands that feed her.  She does not know that last year she burnt that bridge.

New new girl, who knows, but I can't make any move.  One does not "date" outside certain boundaries in boonieland which is stuck morally in the 1950s.  With old new girl, who is a sexual tease, but is quick to call it sexual harassment if you reciprocate, she believes that she is holds the truth of what is morally correct and true in the world.

Life is complicated