ontology – Page 4 – A Piece, of the Sky

I’m always right, 25% of the time.
– Joey

It’s a little strange to catfish as your significant other, especially if you’re going to go into the game as a single person. Why over-complicate an already complicated game? It’s already hard to be yourself, in real life, much less on The Genius or Survivor, where you have to be calculating new strategies, almost constantly. “Is Chris cute?” immediately alerts the females, to the bad gaydar, of a possibly fake girl catfish. Why would the catfish admit to being the catfish?

In regard to Alana, a dork, for models, is not a dork, for normal people. Unfortunately, she just seemed like someone trying to be fake and fit in, with the rest of the masses. A majority of beautiful people in casting, immediately makes the other people suspect that several catfish, and maybe a bot, or two, might be in their midst. However, Alana wasn’t a catfish; she was actually hot. Filters are fine, just probably not on your profile pic. Bad first impression.

But humans are pattern-finding animals. What’s a threat? What’s a resource? In our daily lives, we must all quickly decide, all quickly form an opinion. It’s like when the great chef didn’t know how to poach an egg; a red flag immediately went up, for the woman he was hitting on.

Why would Alana immediately call the female chat “Skinny Queens”? Did Alana want to be targeted for being pretty? “It’s good that we’re all pretty,” Alana says, without even thinking about it. There’s nothing wrong with being pretty; Alana is just very tone deaf. Skinny legend, skinny icon. Has Alana opened insta lately? Rookie moves. Alana was a case where being so perfect must mean she was a catfish – and the group did not mean this as a compliment.

Alli walked up the stone pathway, in the pouring rain. She wore a water-resistant greatcoat, but her hair was soaked. Jan accepted her in, without question.

The fire leaped, bright in the hearth. Jan took Alli’s coat and let her towel off. They sat in front of the fireplace together, on the bear skin rug, wrapped in a huge afghan.

Her hair was drying quickly, in front of the flames. She turned to Jan and said, “I did it. I left Ran.”

The rain outside never let up. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something like that, for what seems like forever,” Jan murmured. Alli couldn’t help smiling and turned to look at her, “Me too.”

***

1999:

“So, this is me,” Nealy said, unlocking the door.

Alli came in and looked around. The stars burned in the navy sky and the rhythmic chirping of crickets filled the air. Nealy turned on the light, and Alli saw the long hallway, leading to a small kitchen, with a yellow and orange tile floor.

“Welcome to my new home. Our new home, off-campus,” Nealy was saying, as Alli took in the light fixtures, the mint green sofa, the aging television set.

They came into the living room. The kitchen opened into this space. The TV could be seen from the tiny dining area.

Alli continued peering about, at the toaster, the Japanese chef knifes, the breadbox, the juicer. Nealy stepped in front of her and caressed her upper arms. She smelled Alli’s neck, took in her cologne, “You’re going to like it here, I promise.”

A pause followed. They listened to the crickets, imagined the constellations whirling above them. Nealy looked into Alli’s eyes and said, “You know that I truly love you.”

Alli grasped Nealy’s fingers in her hand, “Even a few weeks ago, I would have never imagined this moment, here with you. My dream came true.”

Nealy grinned, “I’m flattered that I was in your dream.” She held Alli’s face between her hands. Alli looked up at her.

The disk of the moon rose in the east and drifted through the stars. Tree branches rustled outside, masking the two students’ muted conversation.