thediastema's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"Shit, fan. Fan, shit.\" \"Uh, we've met before, actually!\" \"Oh.\" After a year and a half of supportive deception, I have just found out that Dimples knows. Suffice it to say she knows I know she knows. "You liked [Four Eyes]," she said in a relaxed, amused fashion, "when you were 'younger,'" she added finger punctuation. That's all we said about it. O, except the big lies I used to follow up: "Well, yeah, younger. A long time ago. But it didn't last." Okay, so at least the words "Well, yeah" were true. Now, let me reiterate, lest anybody acquire misconceptions about my current relationship with Durwood. (If anybody's really still with me. If not, that's okay. Go back to your buddy list and catch up on the rest of your duty reads. Seriously, it's fine.) See, I'm with Durwood, and we're pretty damn happy together. Period. Yuppie is in what I've taken to calling "cold storage," meaning that I'm probably in the clear unless he tries to do something stupid like come back to work again (again). Not bloody likely. So, once more for maximum effect: out with the Four, in with the 'Wood. And knowing that, I could almost put the whole "Polygon from Hell" drama behind me. I mean, hey, they've both graduated, she's obviously not too bothered by it, we're all seeing other people (!) and I'm the only one out of the whole set still working the Cage. The old Latin American soap opera has given way to a whole host of spinoffs. Except. I want to know how she found out. I can't help it. I want to know the identity of the leak, or the nature of the whistleblower. If it was one of the friends entrusted with the secret, maybe I won't be upset, because hey, it's not supposed to be important anymore. (See above.) If it was this diary, or the the other one, then I have nothing but my stupid exhibitionism to blame. Ditto if the overkill cover job blew itself -- I call a guy bad names enough times, it's pretty obvious what's going on, especially if I'm wiggling my toes at the same time. Or hey, if Dinah read into the showtime-fight stories what I thought only I was stupid enough to read into them, or if HM's hypotheses-anchored-in-fantasyland were accidentally true...sure. Not really anybody's fault. I just want to know who, or what, exposed the truth. And how long it's been hanging in the air like an egg fart, flapping in the breeze like a kick-me sign plastered to my none-the-wiser back. And how well Dimples really took it. And the most easily-snapped bone in the human body. Just for reference. Seriously, not a lot to ask. ~ETK Happy birthday, Dad and Accompanist. Technically it's no longer the 16th, but I might as well fill up the epigram that way. 00:44 - 17 August, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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