Chamisa stood middle height, dark hair and eyes. Her rounded cheeks spoke of domestic comfort and her 20-year-old hips seemed on the verge of exploding in every direction, like football fans in a packed arena. The social style she adopted for her late adolescent/early adulthood years was one of misdirection. Wherever she wasn't was the place to be. When she spent time with people her own age from her high school, she alluded to the great sex she had with the 28-year-old brother of the girl she works with. When she was working or drinking just after work, she always made sure her prime weekend hours were reserved for her former high school crowd. But you could always get her time if you tried hard enough, were persistent and didn't care for offhand rejection--such as not answering the phone, not coming to the door if she could pretend to be sleeping and not telling you what she was doing on Friday night. She wasn't really a full-fledged member of any social group. Her fear of being rejected limited her to slightly more than satellite status and required her to harbor at least three social groups at any time. In fact, her fear of rejection was so strong, that she had trouble rejecting others, thus her offhanded manner. That's how you could always get her time--on a Tuesday afternoon for a movie and a makeout--simply don't pay any attention to her offhand rejections and persist, persist, persist.

I told her I'd call her early in the week. She kept alluding to her 28-year-old fuck-friend, who told her he loved her and cried in bed and on and on. I know this is because I asked to hang with her early in the week. We have fucked before, and if if Tuesday or Wednesday goes as I expect, we will fuck again. She wants to make it seem like sex is no big deal to her, that she gets it and is cool. What she's trying to accomplish alludes me, but she may just be trying to impress guys. It's different for women and she doesn't understand that yet. Or maybe it's just more misdirection--talking about her other love affair, making it seem more gratifying than the one I'm tacitly proposing. After Wednesday of next week, I'll have photos of her naked in bed to show to my friends. Photos that she let me take willingly. For years I've wanted to be friends with girls, knowing full well that the entire concept is a joke. Men and women can't be friends--shit they can barely work together without sexuality and love getting in the way. Work--mankind's primary source of effectiveness and the essential reason why we flourish. Even a healthy sacrament like work is not immune. I pretend to be friends just to get close to them and to get them alone with me. I'm not particularly handsome, intelligent or even funny. The only beneficial quality I have is the patience to wait out the most perfunctory womenese and persistence in accomplishing my goal of sleeping with them.