It's not what you think (or who, for that matter)

You know, fashion is cyclical, and so is home decorating style. I, for example, CHOSE to have avocado green walls in my study. It's ironic, because people have been trying to get rid of their mustard yellow/avocado green/burnt orange walls for years. Almost as soon as my mother ditched her pumpkin-colored counter tops, orange came back into style like a magnificent sunrise. As a child, I never thought I'd wear bell bottoms, but boot cut pants (bell bottoms' conservative cousin) are a hundred times more flattering on nearly everyone than the tapered-legged, stonewashed jeans I wore in elementary school. Still, this morning in the bathtub I was contemplating something that I pray is never popular again-- the macrame owl. Really! Who thought that was at all cool? I remember my grandmother having one, and I thought it was soooo ugly. Ick, ick, ick. Don't ask me what prompted these thoughts, but there you have it.
But maybe that can be the point of today's musing. I've been having a laugh lately because there are so many folks who THINK they have me figured out. HA! Just when they'd assume I'm obsessing over the positively wonderful (and a few positively miserable) moments of my last social outing or two, I'm thinking about macrame owls and how useless lanyards are. Case in point: The other day I was talking about something, and I think I mentioned worthwhile mischief. The fella I was talking to assumed that I was discussing making out, but was quite surprised when I (jokingly) mentioned some kind of property defacement (for the record, I'm not a destructive person). I mean, just because I'm a GREAT kisser doesn't mean that's the only thing I have to offer to a conversation, right? Likewise, I had a chat with a friend the other day, and was trying to be a little discreet regarding a problem another friend was having. But, he automatically assumed it was me! I guess he didn't realize that I'm typically blunt enough to say what's on my mind, instead of taking the "I have this friend..." route. The best part? When this miscommunication happens with men, 9 times out of 10 they assume that I'm in love with them! How does this even happen? I'm not convinced that it's so much that I'm a flirt (even though I am) as it is men all seem to have particularly high opinions of themselves. And I'm not saying that I like my boys with poor self-esteem, but talk about a turn-off. When even platonically-offered affection is rebuffed in the spirit of self-absorbed assumptions about my (generally non-existent) love, I begin to think the man is 100% worthless. Put another way, if you are a man and you think I'm in love with you, chances are pretty good that you're completely wrong. Unless you are remarkable in some way, and are more concerned with leaving the world better than you found it rather than a paltry pursuit of mediocrity, I'm not interested. While you prattle on, riding your high horse and thinking, "Oh, she's so in love with me, but so sadly beneath me," I'm thinking about macrame.
Put yet another way, Yes, I am interested in someone. And no, it isn't you.