In turn, there are many, but they hide very well, so it is difficult to detect.
I'm talking about a kind of very, very dangerous for us women, the patients. The dictionary defines
Italian resident who "through sickness or other casualty is forced to stay in bed or being treated in a health resort."
But I see it this way: the resident is that two-footed at the first opportunity that you red-hot ears and we stretch the brain with the details of his last painful love story.
We do, however, the necessary distinctions: there are those who suffer and those who suffer serious command. The first
is a genuine resident. He's bad at all and if she goes out with you just because now even his hamster pulls the plugs in my ears just see it coming.
If you think that the "syndrome of the nurse" applies only to other women, then usciteci well. But save yourself the hairdresser, beautician and thong with rhinestones. Waste of money. But do not forget a blanket and some food. The speeches of a man who suffers for love are longer and more troublesome of Kieslowski Decalogue. Anyway, rather than a resident, I suggest you adopt a monument. More useful and satisfying. If
then fed the secret hope to start a relationship with a guy so shabby, I strongly suggest you a month of volunteer work in Calcutta.
I speak from direct experience.
Many years ago I was enamored of a resident almost ready for the morgue.
was summer and he was a waiter in a piano bar. Every night I waited patiently for him to finish his turn to sit at table with him and shoot me in the mood all the details of the tragic love affair with Vivian, his ex.
Even a goldfinch would understand that the guy had a nearly flat electroencephalogram. But I was counting on to reduce Viviana a distant memory in a couple of sessions.
But in August we were still at "that time when I took her to Venice for her birthday, and the bitch began to flirt with the gondolier."
When the summer drew to a close, the resident was me. In an oblique position on the chair, I was connected to a tube through Negroni boccettone of mileage, I just nodded from time to time and at the same time I pulled up a bit 'of liquid. One evening I decided to skip the session. I could not take anymore. The next evening found him in the larval stage.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
"Yesterday you did not come ... I'll wait ... I was wrong without you."
Ueilà, something moves. Finally!
"I'm sorry ... is that I was sick, but now everything is ok. But ... I'm glad you missed me ... "
" Yeah. Well. Where were we? "
" Ah ... um ... at that time you asked you to Vivian who would have thrown down from the tower if you or your Pekingese and she said that there had to think. "
" Ah yes! Do you realize?! - I have to think - and I as if we were that hairy rat on the same floor! And I have not even told about that time ... "
" Excuse me a minute, you mind if the first order the usual? "
... is the last time. I'm sure that is forgetting. I feel that you are fond of me.
"But I figured, I do. Anselmo! Anselmoooo! Bring a Negroni for ... for ... sorry, how is it that What's your name? "
The second category, that of the sick imagination, is much more dangerous and treacherous.
There are men who break health and testosterone. But just ask him something more concrete you see them fade, stutter, shake, and cry if necessary.
"Oh my God ... what have you? Does it feel good? Good grief, I asked you to accompany me to my cousin's wedding, not to Mauthausen "
" No ... is that ... you know ... I've never talked about Lara? "
" No. "
" The fact is that Lara is still an open wound. "
In a little 'you I open a wound in the forehead.
"She ... she ... oh God ...."
convulsive sobs.
"Talking about it is too painful for me ... I do not know if I can."
"Can you, you'll make ..."
"No ... I do not succeed .."
"make it."
"The ... Lara was my ex. We had to get married, but one day she went away without an explanation. And since then I suffer. I suffer terribly. "
" I did not think I suffered so much tonight. Anyway, patience, you will be suffering. "
" ... I can not do it, especially at weddings can not do it. You spoil the party. "
" It will be ruined if I finish Thrush sitting at the table. "
" What? "
" The single table cousins. You're coming with me and sit at the table Orchid, one of coupled cousins. "
" Ough! Couf Couf ... No ... please, I'm too bad. The memory of Sara afflicts me. "
" I called Lara? "
" Ah yes! Sure, Lara. Lara, yes. "
" Listen to me you can also come with a drip stuck into his arm. But sit down with me at the table Orchid. "
" You do not understand, I have flirted suicide for Mara! "
" Lara. "
" Ah ... yes. Lara, Lara. "
" Maybe you did not understand, I have to go there in this marriage together, even from a corpse if necessary. "
" I'm sorry but I do not think the Palace ... "
" Listen, dirty rotten piece of dung: Lara, Sarah and Mara also adds a BARA .
"Bara Ba ..?"
"Yes, BARA. The name of the studio where you will spend your future if you come with me to the fucking wedding and do not glue your ass to the fucking chair that fucking table Orchid. Got it? "
The patient will also be dangerous, but with a woman who threatens the table Thrush, there is no game.
0 comments:
Post a Comment