BugChucka
03-03-2008, 01:12 AM
This evening while tying flies and boozing with a few members of the fish crew , somebody decided to recount one of my previous posts. Some of you may be familiar with the details of my 500th post, for those of you who aren’t, it involves my take on a member, who shall still remain nameless, and his stumbling upon…love?
The stumbling took place sometime in July of 2007. I forget the details, but it was something of note within the crew. I was skeptical to say the least, but FFINH spoke, and what was I to do but take their advice? I suppose you could even say we took a liking to the gal, all but my friend Taylor, who she deemed a “square” during one of our tying sessions.
Time passed and slowly but surely I found myself opening up to her. We did frequent the pubs far less, but our time spent within the confines of my nameless friend’s home, proved to be beneficial, in terms of flies tied. To make a long story short…Bug’s crusty old heart was opening up to her. She poured a stiff drink and my nameless friend assured me that his needs were attended to.
This evening I was asked for an opinion. I cannot get into specifics due to the nature of the question, but I basically suggested some more time be spent… pondering the “situation.”
With bright hopes for the future and a reasonable assurance by way of her past demeanor, I could foresee my stance being quickly changed from that of hesitant, to supportive in a matter of a month.
I wear a set of boat shoes and I wear them often. They were given to me by a man I refer to as “mentor.” Sometimes I think people laugh at them. “Nice moccasins” they say… but they know little of them because they’ve never walked in them. Tonight I took the long walk home, a walk that most have taken at some point. It wasn’t induced by a failed romance or intoxication, the fact is, for whatever reason, the “love” decided to flip a switch and leave my nameless friend with his hands in his pockets. What was he to do but to give chase? Through the graffiti ridden allies of downtown Manchester he shouted her name, she responded with obscenities and hideous gestures. I followed for roughly 15 minutes, I realized it was very cold, and what option was I left with other than that to walk home? The details of the dispute remain unclear, but what is certain, is that I sloshed my way through puddles, over snow banks, under dripping overpasses, and across ice covered side walks in order to escape the demented phrases being exchanged. The fish crew is pretty tight and thankfully one of the members helped guide me through this emotional episode, I’d be lying if the whole thing didn’t make me doubt any level of romantic support. So I ask you FFINH, one last time, is it me, or is she just trying to pull a rabbit strip over our eyes?
The stumbling took place sometime in July of 2007. I forget the details, but it was something of note within the crew. I was skeptical to say the least, but FFINH spoke, and what was I to do but take their advice? I suppose you could even say we took a liking to the gal, all but my friend Taylor, who she deemed a “square” during one of our tying sessions.
Time passed and slowly but surely I found myself opening up to her. We did frequent the pubs far less, but our time spent within the confines of my nameless friend’s home, proved to be beneficial, in terms of flies tied. To make a long story short…Bug’s crusty old heart was opening up to her. She poured a stiff drink and my nameless friend assured me that his needs were attended to.
This evening I was asked for an opinion. I cannot get into specifics due to the nature of the question, but I basically suggested some more time be spent… pondering the “situation.”
With bright hopes for the future and a reasonable assurance by way of her past demeanor, I could foresee my stance being quickly changed from that of hesitant, to supportive in a matter of a month.
I wear a set of boat shoes and I wear them often. They were given to me by a man I refer to as “mentor.” Sometimes I think people laugh at them. “Nice moccasins” they say… but they know little of them because they’ve never walked in them. Tonight I took the long walk home, a walk that most have taken at some point. It wasn’t induced by a failed romance or intoxication, the fact is, for whatever reason, the “love” decided to flip a switch and leave my nameless friend with his hands in his pockets. What was he to do but to give chase? Through the graffiti ridden allies of downtown Manchester he shouted her name, she responded with obscenities and hideous gestures. I followed for roughly 15 minutes, I realized it was very cold, and what option was I left with other than that to walk home? The details of the dispute remain unclear, but what is certain, is that I sloshed my way through puddles, over snow banks, under dripping overpasses, and across ice covered side walks in order to escape the demented phrases being exchanged. The fish crew is pretty tight and thankfully one of the members helped guide me through this emotional episode, I’d be lying if the whole thing didn’t make me doubt any level of romantic support. So I ask you FFINH, one last time, is it me, or is she just trying to pull a rabbit strip over our eyes?