This Started Out As "Charleston: Part Two"

He wasn’t subtle. I suppose I was asking for it considering I walked right into his line of vision. I don’t think he was expecting me to smile at him though. Especially after he so blatantly checked me out.

I was wearing my cream-colored silk skirt from Banana Republic with a floral cardigan and pearls. I had taken the time to curl my hair and do my makeup and, overall, felt pretty darn hot.

But I still wanted to flick him off as I watched his eyes shimmy down my figure. Which is why I am completely baffled by the fact that when his gaze finally rested on my face, I smiled at him.

He looked surprised, but smiled in return. I decided he wasn’t so bad. After all, it was one of those oh-so-typical moments one can laugh off fairly easily. He was at the very youngest 16, at the very oldest 18. So at least his little cat scan was age-appropriate, if not appropriate in general.

I’d continue but I have grown morbidly tired of talking about boys. I swear, that is all girls ever talk about with one another. Boys, dating, relationships, the differences between a “hot guy” and a “handsome guy”. Give me a break. I mean, I enjoy Girl Talk as much as the next person—but are our lives really so meaningless we have to have the same conversations over and over and over and over and over and over and OVER again?

Girls are more practical than boys because girls tend to think things through before they act, where as boys prefer a more spontaneous approach. I think we can safely say that this is an established fact in the eyes of society. Must we jabber about it for fifteen minutes?

Doesn’t anyone have any GOOD conversation topics up their sleeves? It’s been such a long time since I’ve had a GOOD conversation. Come on, people, I know you have it in you.

I try. I’ve tried pathetically on more than one occasion to spark a discussion about how one becomes a teakettle designer (the ultimate job, in my opinion), and yet no one seems to find teakettles or the people who design them to be the least bit interesting.

Oh, but their phone conversation with Billy last night? Now THAT is worth talking about.

The next time someone starts talking about boys, I swear to God, I am going to cry.

There comes a point when one has to realize that no matter how “fun” pretending to be the girls form Sex And The City may be: there’s really no sense if enforcing the opinion that all girls talk about is their romantic life.

And don’t you dare think discussing politics is any better. Because it’s not. Because people assume that the only reason two teenage girly-girls sit in a coffee shop talking loudly about President Bush is because they’re trying to appear as though they have more intelligent things to worry about than Victoria’s Secret semi-annual sale. Which is worse than actually talking about Victoria’s semi-annual sale because then not only are you STILL a “mindless bimbo”, you’re a poser.

How about discussing something that, gasp, you actually care about?

I write as this IM pops up on my screen:

Shall_Remain_Anonymous: O. M. G. Thurston and I had the best conversation last night.

To which I instinctively replied:

My_sn: Do you think he likes you?

Who am I kidding? I’m a mindless bimbo. Ah well. You still love me.