How to Befriend Feral Cats, and Other Futile Efforts

So Omar is back, kinda. He sent me an e-mail, and he wanted me to call him b/c he never knows when I’m going to be asleep. I did, and we talked for a bit, but it’s becoming apparent that we need to meet in order to continue the friendship, b/c we don’t really know how to classify each other yet. OK, that’s just my assumption based on my personal feelings about the situation. I feel that I’m not sure how to talk to him, or what about, b/c I don’t know if we’re going in the amorous direction, or just a friendship direction. What’s the difference? It’s just different!

UGH, I dunno! *Major Generalization/Stereotyping Alert* Why is it that I have this hang-up with Hispanic men?! It’s like, a part of me thinks that I just can’t keep up w/this shit. I like white guys because if they like you, they call you. When they’re into you, you can tell. Hispanic men are just tricky, and they require finesse. It’s like the difference between getting a stray dog to let you pet it (dangle a piece of food, or just pretend to dangle a piece of food, and they’re yours), and getting a stray cat to let you pet it. You could try for hours, days, or even weeks, and somehow that cat would get you to give it the food, and you still wouldn’t be able to touch it. Not to belabor the metaphor, but I’m definitely a dog lover- not so much into cats.

On the bright side of all of this, I’m glad that we’re still talking, that we still get along, and that it’s going slow enough for me to lose weight. I’m back to exercising, marginally, and I am now really fitting into some stuff. If everything goes well I should be able to meet him in the next 5-6 weeks, which should go past easily enough.

In ex news, Shawn texted me a couple of weeks ago. I was at the coast w/my folks at the time, and I didn’t see it until the morning after, but apparently someone had made a threat against his life, and his response was to text me at 1am: “I just want u 2 know if something happens to me i still think about u daily” Of course, I ignored it at first, but on the 2 1/2 hr drive home I had a sudden flash of a reporter on the nightly news: “white, male apparent suicide victim found in his apartment, still clutching the phone he had used to send his final text message.” He had had problems w/depression in the past, and as much as I know that I don’t owe him ANYTHING, I sincerely don’t want that kind of crap on my conscience. So I texted him back and that’s when I found out about the death threats. The cops played the message for him, and he thinks it’s some guy that he fired about 6 months ago. So while he was probably in his baby girlfriend’s arms all night for reassurance, he felt the need to text me. Whatever. It doesn’t change a thing.