Dinged!

Well, it wasn't entirely unexpected. And it's actually good in a way, because I don't need more options to cloud up my already murky brain. But yes, I got the official rejection from the one Seattle firm I interviewed with last week, the one with an office in Anchorage. Their email was very nice, for what it was worth. I almost believed that they "sincerely enjoyed meeting [me]" last week.

The prom queen don't look so good this year, eh? Last year's prom queen never does... That is why you seize the day when it's your prom, and you get married to your corporate law whoredom as fast as your shiny Louboutins can carry you.

I interviewed for the Department of Labor today with two nice, slightly worn-looking lifers in DOL. I love government folks. They're so not slick and so earnest. And worn around the edges. It's nice.

More ding-a-lings: Last week? On Friday? After turning down an invitation to go out for Ms. Destroyer's birthday on Thursday night? Mr. Destroyer emails a really horribly passive aggressive, hurtful message that I MUST quote from in order to convey the full horror:

"In the course of an outing, we almost always hit a point of awkwardness because it's obvious we should be relating on a deeper level but won't. We brought it into the open once w/out saying much about it. The thing is, it'd be nothing but awkwardness if we saw each other more often."

But don't stop yet with the hidden messages and general fuckwittage!

"I could be totally wrong, of course; about you and about me. We haven't really spoken in, uh, a year, and we never really knew each other all that well. And the last person I trust about me is me."

And the denouement?

"Still. I doubt you'd even want to hang out more often. That said, I'm willing to take a quite responsible attitude towards our friendship. Very on the up and up, you know. So let me know, if you wish, whether you've time some time."

I respond with a little bit of faux naivety, attempting to prick the bubble of bullshit now stinking up the joint: "Dude. That is some serious shit. Um.... I am not sure what to say. ... I think you are an engaging, complex, and intriguing person, and I would be delighted to spend more time with you. Whenever you invite me to do something, I write back, and if I can't make it, I ask when you are free otherwise. This is how I normally operate with friends.... But the times I've done that with you, I usually don't get a response back, which makes me feel like you don't care about being friends, you just want people to hang out with when you think of something you want to do. I'm not sure how to reconcile that with your idea that we should be relating on a deeper level." Etc.

Oh ho! He writeth back:

"The idea of you scheduling an alternate date doesn't ring a bell, but perhaps that's how it worked. While I can't speak for others, I will anyway: I think [the Sunshine Band consisting of both Destroyers and the Mormon Who Loved Them] got the impression of you as the one who said she'd show up but hardly ever did. The one who wasn't really interested."

Um. In fact, your little band had such a weird dynamic that not only I but others felt ill at ease around you. Whatev. He continueth:

"I could always have figured you wrong, but it seemed as if there was an understanding that lent itself to talking about important things. What do I mean by understanding? I haven't the slightest clue. You have a certain gravity, you're observant and incisive, a little cranky but in a good natured way - but perhaps I just confused your "dispassionate" aspect for gravity. Huh. I don't know. The point being, that it occurred to me that I was drawn to talk to you about things, in an off the cuff sort of way that doesn't come across when reified into the written word, but maybe there wasn't reciprocity or maybe we both just balked."

Wha--? And huh--? Are you insulting me? Cause when you say -- "I think I mistook your lack of passion for a certain gravity. Boy, was I wrong!" -- that's not really so nice. On the other hand, am I supposed to be amused by your attempts at cleverness and smartness? Cause no one -- NO ONE -- uses the word "reified" in an email about their relationship with someone else. NO ONE. On the other other hand, am I supposed to be pleased because you felt some kind of mysterious connection and understanding?

You know what, fuck this. My brain hurts. And my message reflects that: "Huh. I don't know whether to be insulted, amused, or pleased."

But after his response to THAT, I was definitely insulted, and not in a "Omigod, you are SO inSULting! Hee hee!" way. Because this is what he writes:

"Insulted shouldn't be a surprise, but it sorta is. But I can see that you'd want to avoid complicated. ...But I think there are cracks in the way people act, and it's hard not to stare when something's flashing at you. ... But I do have a crack problem, so to speak. It's hard for me to say no. You know, not to look. Have a good weekend."

WhatEVER, bitch. You are a serious, serious a fuckwit, and I am DONE. I am NO LONGER AMUSED.

(But you are totally going to be part of the screenplay. AS A SLEAZY FUCKWIT, YOU ARE.)