Constants And Variables

There’s a certain point in conversations with guys when you can tell that’s what he’s thinking. He fell for the sparkly nails and the off-the-shoulder top and he’s expecting you to tell him how your dream is to bike across France with just the clothes on your back. How you like art museums because they feel like the beautiful preservation of long-dead artists’ souls. How you believe humans evolved sight in order to appreciate the infinitely unreachable cascade of stars above.

And at that point you’ve already lost. There’s no graceful way to clarify that you’re actually just a gremlin in a sundress, which you got for $14.99 on the clearance rack at Old Navy while trying to buy socks. That you actually don’t know anything about philosophy or whimsy or world-travel you get anxious taking the subway anywhere new. That you actually really have to go because you already have plans for the evening of lying in a blanket-burrito in bed watching a 49 minute Youtube video review of an anime you’ve never heard of.

them: no

me: are you sure?

them: i’m sure

me:

if 20,000 tethered flies