The next one

I've always had one reaction on the realization that I like a chic [or vice-versa], and that is to run. It's not premeditated. It just happens. All the time. The first time was in std 6 when my deskie asked me if I could have lunch with her. During the weekend that is. I was stunned. [girls were really intimidating in std 6] Didn't know what to say. Out of my mouth came the words "Why me? Why not Kenneth?". And it's been the same ever since.

I don't have some childhood trauma or other apparent psycho-social explanations for this reaction. It's almost an involuntary response. The only thing I can think of is the thought of being married that seems to rush to my mind. And it's a scary thought. I was telling 0.5 one night after a similar debacle how I'm probably not cut out for this kind of thing. Relationships and the like. I've had some real prodding recently and it's got me thinking. I'll do an imitation of the guy before the firing squad. No moving or squirming. Definitely no running. No seeing. That's next time.