In conversation with my cousin,
she says, 'Oh my God, my
brother-in-law still remembers
you

as my cousin with the 'nice ***';
the 'hottie' from my wedding.

Still talking about me after
all these years, I see.
I couldn't help but think,
'wow, quite the first impression
I must make, or is it the
impression I leave BEHIND?'

and I felt the wheels spinning
in my mind, as they always do,
trying to decipher what the
appropriate response to
such an admission should be...
in this...particular...instance.

And I heard this voice in my
mind, shout, in its softest tone,
'I...AM MORE...THAN JUST...
A...NICE...***, if you take
the time to know me.'

So I realize that I find
the observation anything but
flattering.

Amusing, predictable,
redundant...yes.

But am I flattered, am I
even intrigued, or...
impressed, in the slightest?
Not at all.

For me, it is just...
inevitable entertainment,
among other things I
won't freely admit at this
time.

But if, and when, I happen
to lose any components
of my identity,
I can always remember,
that if nothing else,
I am...

(not my name, or even
my fetching idiosyncracies,
but...)

the 'Hottie with the
nice ***', and
I wouldn't be able to help,
but smirk.



-by Mercurychyld
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