Right before she walked into the branch, I saw her put out a cigarette.
GOD. FUCKING. DAMMIT.
Is nothing pristine left in this world? And I, who would hold myself up as the example, the ideal, am being corroded not by these common poisons of the body, but of the poison of the mind; a willful temperament. I simply could not bring myself to ask the question, and I certainly have the "balls" to do it; I have in the past. But I never take it past flirtation with a girl who smokes. And I will flirt with them notoriously; smoker girls have traditionally been some of my more fun flirts. But it's empty. I can't ask her to change; I'm not interested in resentment. And I'm not interested in her if she's poisoning her body. I have a hard enough time dealing with myself doing the same to my mind.
Maybe next week I'll get over myself and ask her to dinner. Or find out she's got an SO. Either way; express my now-slightly-less legitimate interest, and not just as her banker. Hell, it's not like I'll have to kiss her, right? Ha ha ha... that would be so empowering to my tiny little male brain; to turn down a kiss from this alabaster beauty. I'd probably brag about it to my friends. "She was so hot, but I didn't kiss her because I fucking think I'm Jesus. I rock."
I haven't ended an entry this way in ages, but I'm disinterested enough in this matter by now to say: