Earlier today, I was at the doctor's office, waiting to have my prescriptions filled... waiting for my number to be called... waiting... waiting... There were two guys sitting next to me. One just had his head in his hands, sympathizing, while the other guy talked to his girlfriend on the phone. He's breaking up with her. Or rather, making her break up with him. He just broke his arm and he is asking her if he should come home to her, if she still loves him, and if she will take care of him until his arm heals. He gives her the ultimatum and asks if he should look somewhere else to live. He expresses his financial issues and how he needs her money. "You gotta decide, Amelia. That's what I'm tellin' ya. There's no more time." I wonder what she's thinking on the other end. "I hafta know, Amelia!" Sometimes I think that I might be too picky in regards to relationships. I might not give guys enough of a chance. But it's situations like this one and couples that I see everyday, that refortify my original impressions. I don't ask much at all; I don't have a list of necessary requirements or a book of a hundred qualities and hurdles the guy has to pass, but time and time again, my heart is left wanting. Why is he doing this now? In the most public of places and over the phone? He accuses her of not caring enough about him. "You shouldda seen this comin', Amelia. Are you gonna tell me you need more time? 'Cause you ain't got no more time. I need a definite answer, Amelia." The answer is simple; if you find yourself in this situation, asking these kinds of questions... end it. I hope that's not just me being cynical, but I've been through a lot and I guess have high expectations and low patience. It's amazing how much personal information people share in public places. I am a pretty private person. I don't like people (even close relations) to know too much about me and when too much information is leaked, I feel exposed, vulnerable, and emotionally naked. Exposure is quickly followed by a recluse into silence and solitude. Slowly, I'll emerge and begin sharing myself again, but it's a vicious cycle of self-disclosure. What good does it do to keep yourself to... yourself? Gossip, opinions, and unwanted input instill fear of opening up, but equivalent fear of loneliness and solitude push me back into communication. 
Camera phone shot trying to capture the pain in my eyes...
"now serving... number 724..."
(I think another key reason why this guy bugged me so much is how many times he said her name. Someone's name is important and how many times you use it is powerful. Use it too much, derogatorily, and it makes you seem cocky, overbearing and obtrusive. Use it lovingly and it makes all the difference in what you are trying to say. Needless to say, how he was using her name did not make him come off compassionate and understanding. It made me want to punch him in the face... not really, that's mean.)
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