I recently had a conversation with Myself. We covered a wide variety of topics, ranging from our current romantic status (or lack thereof) to the natural predatorial perclivities of the human race. Many of you must be staring at the screen in front of you now wondering what the hell I've been smoking and why I didn't share. Don't worry. I've been wondering that myself. >:) Anyway, this is how the coversation, or at least part of it, went:

Rhi: What in the bloody hell is going on here?

Myself: What do you mean?

Rhi: How come everone else I know is ending up with dates to prom and/or boyfriends and not me?

Myself: Relax. Your time will come.

Rhi: I don't want to relax. It's not bloody fair, you know.

Myself: Life sucks, then you die. How many times have you told the boys that? Take your own bloody advice.

Rhi: That's not what I ment. What I MENT was that I'm already though high school and I STILL don't have a boyfriend yet. No one's even asked me out in my life. Ever. At all. But my bestfriend has one, Rachel has one, the other Rachel somehow mananged to start going out with a guy she really likes who just HAPPENS to be in my Aqua Leader's class, and who I happed to like as well, and it seems to me that the only guys who ever pay any attention to me in THAT way happen to be the guys that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and cause my stomach to flip, but not in a good way. They make me want to run screaming at the very THOUGHT of even going near them. And they're all inbred.

Myself: You're stereotyping again.

Rhi: Cram it up your ass! You're just trying to get me off topic. Now where was I?

Myself: In the middle of a self pitying binge, I believe. (This is the part where I look in the mirror and glare at Myself)

Rhi: I prefer to call it "venting my emotional buildup".

Myself: Right then. Whatever. Continue.

Rhi: ANYWAY, Kristi was trying to get me to ask someone that I know to prom just so I'd have someone to go with. Problem is, he's two and a half years younger than me, and he's the younger brother of someone who was in my graduating class last year. Eewww.

Myself: Still, it's better than going alone...

Rhi: Perhaps, but now it's too late. And it's all my fault. Prom's on Friday, in case you hadn't noticed. And I can't even get my hair done because I'll be at bloody synchro until about seven. And I STILL need a tiearra (spell it as you will. I don't know how.), not to mention a date. At least I've got my dress...

(There was a good long pause at this point, followed by a healthy SHWACK)

Rhi: What the hell did you do that for?

Myself: Knock it off.

Rhi: What?

Myself: That "I'm more Vulcan than I am human and I can ignore my emotions if I want to" attitude you've got going. Not only that, but pull your head out of your ass. Your ego needs some deflating.

Rhi: It's your head too. (My cheek still hurt, and I was rubbing it while glaring at Myself in the mirror some more)

(Myself was also rubbing her cheek, because it was her cheek too. She has a nasty habbit of copying everything I do).

Rhi: Besides; I can indulge in my own self pity if I want to.

Myself: Kristi was only trying to save you from spending the night staring at everyone else having fun during the slow dances, and then ending up depressed and scowling at everyone else while they're having fun, you know.

Rhi: I don't see what's wrong with that. I went last year with out a date--

Myself: So did Jef--

Rhi: Oh no you don't.

Myself: What?

Rhi: I know HE went without a date. And I asked him to dance, so HA! Anyway, I went last year without a date and that worked out fine.

Myself: And then you spent a bloody long time waiting for him to make the next move when really it was your turn. His move was saying "yes".

Rhi: Shut up.

Myself: Don't like to be reminded of that fact? The fact that you blew any chance you had at making him your first boyfriend by not talking to him?

Rhi: You're right. I don't. So stop it.

Myself: No. You need to hear this.

Rhi: No I don't. If I wanted to hear this, I'd have admitted it to myself earlier.

Myself: But you didn't. Anyway, stop wallowing in your own pity and get on with your life.

Rhi: Do you have any idea how much it stings, to think that you're at least beautiful enough to catch that good looking lifeguard in your Aqua Leader's class and then find out he has the hots for a girl on your synchro team?

Myself: Yes I do. I AM Myself, you know. I am you.

Rhi: Boys are stupid. But useful all the same, if you catch my drift.

Myself: I certainly do.

Rhi: Anyway, I think I should stop wallowing in the self pity that generally accompanies such a conversation as this.

Myself: FINALLY! It took you bloody long enough.

Rhi: Just because I SAID it was about time that I'd accept this, doesn't mean that it's automatically going to be put into practice.

Myself: I know. I just wanted you to admit it.

Rhi: Screw yourself, then.

Myself: I shouldn't think so. (There was a long pause right about now)

Rhi: Damn. I need a boyfriend.

Myself: I thought we agreed to stop this?

Rhi: No, YOU agreed to stop this. I said that it would take me time. (Myself does a damn good impression of me raising my one eyebrow. Perhaps it is because she is Myself.)

Myself: Right then.

Rhi: Was there really a point to all this?

Myself: To get you to admit that you're not as great as you'd like to think. (I'm getting good at the whole dirty look business)

Rhi: Blow it out your ass.

Myself: You told me before to cram it, as I recall...

Rhi: Shut up.

Well, people, now that you know that I'm really a raving lunitic, there's really no cause for concern. Plenty of people have conversations with themselves, because it's really a good form of therapy. Anyway, I thought that I'd just like to share this little tidbit of information with all of you bloody people out there who now think that I'll be a good source of crack for the next few hundred years. Perhaps I'm getting bored of self pity and am looking for someone else's now...I couldn't say why... Anyway, I'm sure that you all have something else better to do than listen to me argue with Myself about the omnipresent problem of the lack of a romantic life, so you can run along now. And I do mean run. Fast. Really fast.