Faust

Faust Kate D’Angelo, for a period of weeks, existed as “Interesting Person X” so to speak. An individual, primarily opposite my gender (I am male) that I pay great attention to on a regular basis. An as-often-as-I-can basis, that I try to bend in my favor. It began in a building. A little shop that had what I needed, when I needed it. Same for her. I spotted her there at least every other visit, and you just can’t have that kind of regularity without forming some rapport. Or at least wanting to form a rapport, which was my first step. I caught her eye the first several times, and from there, exchanged a trivial word or two. And from there, I somehow managed to plan an evening at a fine restaurant. I didn’t quite know how such a thing came together so quickly, and as such a blur to me. However, now--after the evening--I believe she had more intense an eye on me. I am a little flattered, to tell the truth. I want to go back to all of our little exchanges, live in the already-lived moment, knowing without doubt of her focus on me, and only me. Why couldn’t I be St. Hill? “Bullshit!” This coming from my dear friend, a petit, muscular woman whose nickname is Faust. She is a fellow future soldier, and I trust her. “This is seasonal, metropolitan, fancy coat, bullshit love- tale making. Listen. I am a woman, around your age, and here I am. I am close to you. You have that. So there.” So, according to my dear friend Faust, I only need a member of the opposite gender to be in the same room, or area, that will openly be associated with me. It sounds acceptable, but with all the facts, I still feel what I feel, which is a feeling of not having what I supposedly “need.” She explains further. “Be satisfied with this.” I assume she means her presence. “Once you get melty, you’re no good as something that really ought not be melty. You know, like a candy bar. This is f*****g child logic, get it? You’re no good then, and you’re definitely no good to me as a compatriot in battle.” So there. What might be true is this. That I intentionally set the tone as, how Faust puts it, a “Seasonal, metropolitan, fancy coat, bullshit love-tale.” I left out, one, that Kate dealt with me in an entirely businesslike manner throughout our mini (or wholly imaginary) relationship. Two, that she never touched me, not at all. Three, that she seemed generally distant in our discussions. In other words, don’t let me fool you with my one sidedness. Nor should you think that this was special. The little restaurant scene. All of that. It wasn’t, really. And I’ll soon have another “Interesting Person X” to pay attention to. I always do.