Know Me?

What is my favorite color?

Seeing people yesterday that I haven't seen in months really puts certain things in perspective for me. They were friends of a certain former significant other, and the location was at the mall.

Why do I always see these people at the mall, exactly? Is there some sort of commercial magnetism that draws people together? People I haven't seen in months, or on the rare occasion, YEARS? And I wasn't even there for more then an hour.

I was actually very glad to see them both, all sarcastic smiles and asinine jokes aimed at my current companion in crime. The same old guys, meandering about and doing ... what they've done for the past years and years and years I guess. I wish it was that simple, I really do, sometimes.

Now, upon meeting up with them, we all go out for a smoke, lighting up and puffing like movie stars, letting the smoke curl up our cheeks with narrow-eyed pretensions. They pull my comrade to the side (He's been friends with them for much longer then I have) and I get the distinct impression that I am one of the topics discussed, and for some reason it doesn't bother me. In a sick way I wanted to pull my friend aside afterwards and drill him for the juicy details, but I refrained. Instead, we talked about my Former Significant Other as an outsider, the boys telling me that they were shunned for behavior that they frowned upon.

I found myself pleased.

Then one of them looks at me and grins, saying, "man, you weren't like this before. You're like, all high strung and happy now."

"I was happy then, you know." I retort, cigarette dangling from my lips.

"Right. But now you're high strung. More out there. It's cool."

I don't really know what to say to that. I merely smile and nod, grinning with a shit-eating smile, and then we all swap numbers. I let them convince each other that they're actually going to call me to hang out this weekend. Then, we part ways.

Now my concern here:

How well did they know me that they could make that observation about me now? Have I changed that much? I have to say yes, because even I, in my delusional denial, can't avoid the obvious changes in me. But these boys that barely knew me saw it? I find myself slightly unnerved, but... strangely glad for it.

Which brings me to the real meat here. How well do you know your Oru? I don't want pretenders who feel me after never having met me. I don't want the kinds of people in my life that think they know everything about me after one encounter. I have had enough of people looking into my eyes and telling me what I'm thinking - and being right. I don't want to be an open book, and I most certainly don't want to be predictable.

So I won't be.

Oru