Lost Poppies and Misanthropic Behaviour

So.

I lost my poppy.

Right before Remembrance Day, too.

I was amazed I hadn't lost it earlier when I bought three for me and my sisters at our grandmother's nursing home. It'd stayed pinned to my brown cord jacket. But when I transferred it to my fleece jacket today? Whoosh! Gone with the wind. And you have no idea how much that pisses me off because now I look like one of those assholes who couldn't shell out one lousy dollar for a poppy to remember our veterans by. But you know what irritates me even more?

I shelled out a dollar for that poppy!

Frick on a stick on a brick!

I saw that guy who looks like that other guy I went to high school with again, even though he's probably not that Other Guy. Last time, he sat right next to me on the train ride and I was like, "Oh fucking hell. Gimme a break. There's an empty seat across from me, dude. Why squeeze in next to me? Have the decency to avoid me like the plague like most other guys would."

I glanced up just as he shifted his gaze quickly away and I knew he was watching me the way I watch certain people on the TTC --- covertly. And when they so much as glance in my direction, I shift my gaze because I'm the Queen of Ignoring People. It's like they become this Blind Spot in my field of vision. I'll stand there, see the brown tile floor of the platform, the grimy walls of the station, the garbage can, and blip right over that person who's become a familiar sight. And it's like, by some unspoken, tacit agreement, we agree to never sit anywhere near each other or next to each other. We pretend we don't have any flicker of recognition every time we happen to get onto the same bus, train car or arrive at the same bus stop.

That's just how it is and how it should be.

This time around, I had the good sense to let him get off first, even though I was beginning to feel neck strain from standing so rigidly and pretending I was feeling perfectly natural and oblivious to his presence. Hey, I didn't remember him. This was no biggie.

I didn't want him sitting anywhere near me again 'cause my bag was emitting the vaguely fart-ish odour of my lunch (Vietnamese sub). Anyone with a nose who had the misfortune of sitting next to me would find me repulsive. Like some homeless person who hadn't bathed in six years.

We got onto different cars and I couldn't help thinking about the Other Guy and how mean I was to him in high school.

I think the only reason he remembered my name and remembered me was because I was so hostile and mean to him. Like, the way I treated that guy was like we were on opposing sides of an ethnic war and my sole mission in life was to scorn him.
Plus, there was the competition thing going on between us in law class. And being forced to sit next to him.

I'd give Dr. House a run for his money in the whole misanthropy game.

I remember this one time, the Other Guy asked me how my weekend was and I said, "What do you care? You just want me to ask how your weekend was and frankly, I don't really give a shit how your weekend was."

And then there was the time he wanted me to do him a favour and I was like, "Since you have so much trouble remembering names, I'll only do it if you can tell me what my name is."

Of course, he has to catch me on the day I'm wearing my mugger's hat, have a big gigantic red zit on the side of my face and have hair the size of an afro.

Ugh.