I hang out with Hopkins because, frankly, I don't have a lot of friends. To him, I'm a convenient lift to an activity he seems to enjoy (improv) and that's it. This past weekend, I had to take my father's watch for repairs, to the oldest continuously-operating jeweler in the state. As we pulled through the iron gates of the parking lot, I asked Hopkins if he wanted to go in or stay out in the car.
He said he'd stay in the car.
If he'd left it there, I would have been okay, but no...that was not mean enough.
He added, as I was stepping out of the vehicle, "I wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea."
Dear Hopkins: Insofar as this may come as a shock to your system, I have owned, at different times, a total of three engagement rings, two of which I still have. That means (GASP!) that there were at minimum three (THREE!) men who actively wanted to marry me. Had you left it at that, I probably wouldn't be so angry BUT you felt it necessary thereafter on the same evening to inform two complete strangers (a bookstore clerk and a server) that we were NOT a couple. What the HELL, man? SERIOUSLY? I KNOW YOU DON'T WANT ME. Stop being an asshole. No woman within a thousand-yard range who caught ANY of that would even vaguely entertain the idea of going out with you, because it plays badly to the cheap seats.
Yes, this is with whom my ex thought I was cheating on him. GUESS AGAIN, EX: Not only does he NOT want me, he's hell-bent on reminding me that I'm unworthy of his attention. (That's a bit specious for many, MANY reasons on which I don't wish to elaborate.)
With friends like this, who needs enemies?