Confession

Warning: annoyed. Very annoyed.

I’m in one of those moods in which I can’t believe that other people came to work and are TALKING, POLLUTING THE AIR AROUND ME WITH SHAKY OLD MAN VOICES THAT GO ON AND ON AND ON. I’m not sure why they think they have the right to talk ANYWHERE in my hearing radius. I mean, SERIOUSLY. And what is with all this WALKING AROUND? STAY AT YOUR DESK! Nothing I hate worse than old men wandering around; they’re like loose cannons! You never know WHAT they’re going to do!

For all those who think I’m being intolerant (moi?) just imagine that you’re in constant fear of an old man the age of your grandfather suddenly popping up behind your right shoulder and asking, in a quavering voice, “How do you access more than one worksheet in Excel, again?” And officially ruining your train of thought for the next hour.

Ahem. (Amazing how I can complain about my train of thought being ruined and then, in the next breath, spout off on my baseless and melodramatic opinions for five pages, isn't it?) (Note to my parents: no, you're not annoying when you ask me questions about computers, I promise!)

Anyway. As some of you may know, I am A Liberal. And I live in Capitol Hill, Seattle. The Liberal Center of Seattle. I live in a place in which, when the LT walks to my apartment from downtown, in uniform, he gets strange looks. Yes. That is the kind of place I live in, and generally, I like it. Yeah! Boo on the government! Damn the Man!

Not that I hadn't HEARD of weird girls who actually like men in uniform. I did go to college, and I DID live in a sorority house with roughly thirty girls, some of whom had full-blown uniform fetishes, but I thanked God that I was not one of those--not that there was no way I could be. As I grew up, I was, um, sort of rebellious, and in occasional trouble, and therefore I developed a healthy FEAR of uniforms. The appearance of uniforms in my peripheral vision still means, to me, that my life is about to get very unpleasant. To this day I am afraid of cops, even though I have actually dated one. So, I mean, uniforms, what? Nothing special. Uniforms. Ugh, outdated and polyester, usually. I mean, antiquated. I mean, the signs of warfare and oppression in the world. I mean, give me a break.

And then the other day, several weeks ago, I came down to let LT in to my secure apartment building, and I saw him there in his uniform, and I believe my reaction was...warm. (Read: if I had had a tail, I would have wagged it. And possibly jumped up on the LT and slobbered all over him.) (It’s rare that I want to be my dog.)

Is it possible that, thanks to my Navy boyfriend, I have betrayed my liberal roots completely and fallen for a guy in uniform? And what does that mean?