August 8th, 2005

(no subject)

"Bob doesn't date," she said.

"Why not?"

"He just doesn't date. I've known him for a year and I've never even known him to like a girl. I guess he's been burned or something. He just... doesn't date."

Supposedly Bob didn't date. Even though he had model looks and an interesting personality, no woman in the world could be successful at winning his heart. And it seemed unfair, because he was so naturally intriguing to anybody who encountered him. He had this lanky figure with disheveled blond hair and bright blue eyes, and dimples to complement his rare smile. His mind seemed to be so educated; like even though he didn't talk much, there was plenty of activity going on in his head all the time. His persona was the kind that labeled him perfectly as an artist. The way he carried himself physically and mentally made him seem like the most intellectual of assholes, if only anybody could get him to speak. You could just tell by looking at him that the inside of him was so vibrant that the outside had to be dull to compensate and create a minor sense of balance. His random mannerisms were so strange. He was so incredibly boring and so massively interesting at the same time. When I first met him, I was always reluctant to hang out with him. The more I got to know him, the more complicated it became for me to decide if I was going to end up hating him or falling in love with him. But he was certainly something else, and nobody could deny that. There was no explanation as to why he was this way, as one could think love would come Bob's way very easily. But he wasn't the smiling or the laughing type, nor was he the emotional type. He always mumbled on the rare occasion that he talked, and he just didn't seem like he found the world around him to be very emotionally stimulating. Because of Bob's apparent boredom and lack of enthusiasm in life, he was more the somewhat monotone and, although entirely lovable, visibly loveless.

Before I even knew his name, he stood on the sidewalk leaning up against one of the mailboxes, while Bunny laid five half-nude pictures of me out on the street. Until then he had been the only one to model naked for Bunny before. It wasn't until about a week following Bunny's display of her artwork to the Surrealist club that Bob knew my name.

Since learning my name, Bob smiles. He laughs, and you can tell it feels good to him. Since learning my name, every other time Bunny looks at Bob, he is eccentric. His monotone voice produces frequent strings of humor and he has return to the world of indulgence. He is no longer fixated on being a single unit to increase his individuality, no longer seeming so burdened by loneliness internally and externally. I didn't ever know Bob to have all those characteristics. What I know about Bob's personality as monotone is only what I've been told by people that have known him longer. But apparently Bob is different now. Because since learning my name, Bob dates.