A bit of mind reading

Sometimes it is like I don’t exist. I know I do exist, because each day I get up, eat breakfast go to the Fish Factory, hit the gym, interact with people, but it’s still like I am non existent. It comes down to Sparkling, because I try to communicate with her by MSN but to my chagrin she is shown as offline. Then when I do send a message I get a reply. She isn’t really offline, it’s just the way she signs in, always offline. Which leads me to wonder when she is truly offline but online and when offline does actually mean offline. It can get pretty confusing. I try to reason, but I’m out of my depth here because I’m using logic and logic really is not the logically thing to use. For a simple reason, it’s man logic and not woman logic.

Sparkling then tells me in a few words not to push any buttons because it is the time of the month when men become objects worth of decapitation by any means possible by women. If I say something without due care and attention I am then accused of being insensitive and being an arse hole. Which is of course the natural state of any man nearly 100 per cent of the time according to any woman. It’s like walking on rice paper. I then ask does this mean if I were in Sparkling’s presence I’d be dead, the answer is affirmative, several times over. Probably with a chop stick or a whisk, or worse still the woman glare. The very special look reserved when extreme irritation has now been reached. It can then be followed by the pointed finger. Or the stabbing pointing finger which darts through the air and hits you squarely in the chest. Like some mystic Chinese martial art this move is meant to immobilise a man. And it does. It’s the move which says “don’t carry on because the next thing you say will be written on your grave stone.” It really does mean now deadly force will be used.

Mostly being a coward, or wise I then shut up. However, as this came to me by telepathy in an MSN message, it took a moment to sink in. Yes, I was just reading the words and using my man-logic. Clearly my skin has been temporarily saved. I’m happy because I need it. I think I’ll just pretend not to be here and to be a figment of imagination.

Thing is, whose imagination?