:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Saturday, October 22, 2005 ::

:: Nice to Look at but... ::

South Beach is a city where you could throw a stone down any street and have pretty good odds of hitting a girl who's a model, part-time model, or trying to get into modeling. The women I've met and been on dates with here have all been either students or have "normal" jobs. Sure models are nice to look at but since I've never gone out of my way to meet any, and annecdotal evidence tells me they're usually shallow, insipid, vacuous, naive, etc. That's literally all I've heard. But they couldn't all be that way, could they?

After tonight, I can see why people might think that way.

I went to an art exhibit of a former teacher at a local restaurant and I got to meet a few of her friends. One of them was this model that she photographed. She ended up sitting next to me at the table and apparently she found me friendly enough to share quite a bit about herself. This isn't exactly new to me. I can't pinpoint why but despite having just met, women tend to feel comfortable enough with me that they tend to open up quite a bit. It wasn't so much what she was telling me as the way she was saying it.

Talking to her, you'd think she was the first person in the history of humanity to have had trouble with roommates. The way she described living on her own for the first time, you'd think she just discovered fire. In fact, everything she talked about was said with this dramatic, emotional flair. She could probably lend an air of discovery to something as mundane as opening an envelope. It got to the point where I had to leave the table a couple of times before I suffocated from the drama.

Don't get me wrong, she was really sweet but everything about her screamed "DRAMA QUEEN." I was confirmed of this suspicion when I walked her to her car at the end of the night and she offered to perform a bit of slam poetry for me right there in the parking lot. I said, out of morbid curiosity, "sure." (Now, I love reading, I love writing, I hate poetry. And don't get me started on slam poetry.) So anyway, she starts reciting her poem... about bad roommates. Good gawd. My face might have been stoic but the whole time I was thinking "I'm gonna need a six pack or three to erase this from my memory." I mean, Suzanne Vega couldn't rhyme to save her life but her lyrics weren't this horrible.

Anyway, after I got home I turned the TV on to SportsCenter, sat down, and thought to myself "what the hell just happened tonight?" Oh yeah, in a moment of weakness, I might have given her my number and I'm honestly a little frightened.

(For you sports fans, football picks tomorrow.)

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:30 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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