Tuesday, September 14, 2004


Back to Crazy

Ok, so I've been pretty subdued in my recent posts, what with the new man in my life (that would be Leopold [and yes even the cat is pseudonymous], my new kitten), my ranting about academic life, etc., but have I got news for you.

Remember Dr. Earnest? The colleague-whom-I-unwisely-banged for about a month or two at the beginning of the summer? Well, I received word today that he and the new t-t hire in the department are "officially" a couple. "Officially." Still no word on any details related to this, and I still haven't seen Dr. E.

Now, what he does and with whom is none of my business. BUT it is important to note that about 6 months before he and I made the beast with two backs, he banged another t-t faculty member in the department. He is a serial colleague-banger! And he blabbed to me about the one before me, so did he now blab to his new special lady about me? (Horrifying thought, especially since I didn't tell fucking anybody and it's not in my nature to keep secrets.) And if he didn't, doesn't she have the right to know that he's a serial colleague-banger? And, most importantly, doesn't he realize that this new turn of events will probably lead me to try to bang Freud again out of some weird sort of spite (and yes, I realize that's irrational) and that I'll be even more devastated than usual when Freud tells me that he thinks that banging is bad (except of course for when he decides it's not, bangs me, and then doesn't see me for over a week and doesn't call me as he usually does).

I have to teach in 13 minutes and I am totally unprepared, by the way. But how can I work with all of this intrigue? How can I work when Dr. E. is not pining away for me but has moved on to another (older-looking and less pretty, to be honest) colleague? I must remember that I don't want to bang him, that I ultimately ended it, and that he sleeps on a futon. I must remember all of the shallow reasons why I decided I didn't want to continue banging him in the first place. The crazy unkempt pubic hair. The crappy car. The even crappier apartment. The earnestness.

Must also remember not to call Freud out of the desperation that comes in these sort of situations. I probably will, though.

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