Confused Little Ant

I had lunch with her today. She had been gone to Spain all last semes­ter, and had just got­ten back the pre­vi­ous week. She came up to South Bend to get her job at the Cen­ter for the Home­less set­tled, and to run a few oth­er errands. She cut her hair.

I real­ly like the new look, although her long hair was nice as well. Now she has this quite attrac­tive flip to her hair, which height­ens her already quite att­trac­tive­ness. It was a bit strange to be actu­al­ly talk­ing to her after so long an absence. I left things unsaid as usu­al [while talk­ing my lips off].

She spoke of Spain in glow­ing terms, she wants to go back. It sounds quite the nice place to be. She also spoke of her friend Javi [I hope not boyfriend]. She does not know if she wants to live in Amer­i­ca, because after being abroad she under­stands just how work-cen­tric the Amer­i­can cul­ture is. I’ve felt the same way myself, but just on hearsay, that Europe sounds like my sort of p[l]ace.

Her father called while we ate at Macri’s Deli, and when he heard I was there with her, told her to tell me a joke: he loves bad jokes.

Q: Why were the lit­tle ants con­fused?

A: Because some­one told them that their uncles were aunts.

That one was pret­ty bad, but for me the humor derives from know­ing a per­son who rel­ish­es such bad jokes.

She and I are both quite pro­tec­tive of our inner thoughts, we speak them rarely, so it is most dif­fi­cult for one such as me to work up the con­fi­dence to broach cer­tain sub­jects with her. I hope I can do it the next chance I get.