Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Another stray woman for my collection

I have a bad habit of collecting strays.

Not cats.
Not dogs.


(Someday I may write the back story on this - in fact it may be good for my psyche to do it. But not now.)

I was walking back from Kat's house when I saw a police car up the block. A young woman had been pulled over. She was removing her possessions from her car while a tow truck was getting ready to hook it. I guessed it was being impounded. It was a half block away, so I didn't get a good look at the woman's face, but her clothing and build caused me to assume she was a 19 to 22 year old hottie.

I shuddered.

I knew she needed a ride, I knew I could help, but every time I step up to help - even for simple things like this - it reaches back and bites me in butt. So many times I have had some simple act like this lead to a long term friendship where the exchange of energies has been far out of balance. I'm just a magnet for energy vampires. So I almost walked back in the house to ignore it.


I walked over to her. As I approached I could see her face and the finer details and saw she was closer to my age, maybe a little older (but still a hottie). I offered her a ride and she accepted gratefully. She lived all of 1 mile away. It was a good deal. I felt good for helping, she felt good for the offer, we agreed that no good deed goes unpunished, and we agreed on the existence of "The Fuckup Fairy." I dropped her off, helped carry her stuff to the door. We exchanged names (Tina) and a hug. End of story.

But how did I get to this position, where such a simple act fills me with such trepidation and foreboding? There is something massively wrong with this, and I need to find a way around it.

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