Waylaid!

If you want to see the Dolphins vs Chiefs, and Taylor Swift on Saturday night, you are going to have to stream it. Some streaming service called Peacock paid the NFL $110,000,000 for the rights to stream it.
Greedy bastards.
Capitalism. Its what’s killing America. Its supposed to be the right of every red blooded American to watch all the playoff games for free. And get shit faced.
But that’s not what this post is about.
This post is about my prediction that the Dolphins will whip the Chiefs. All because two words…
Taylor Swift.

It reminds me of back in 2008 when Romo was quarterback for the Cowboys and on the way to the playoffs he got tangled up with Jessica Simpson. He was totally distracted, and understandably so.
They were leading the division going into December but lost 3 out of 4. All they had to do was beat the Eagles in week 17 to clinch a wild card spot, but they got creamed 44-6.
You know, something like this happened to that famous old ship, the Bounty. The Bounty. Waylaid in the Cook islands by a bunch of virgins and all the breadfruit they could eat.

My prediction:
Dolphins 31
Chiefs 17

Princess Margaret

I've been binge watching The Crown on Netflix. I have a crush on Princess Margaret. She's very pretty, and funny despite her broken heart. I'm a sucker for a broken heart.
Oh, and those shoulders are lovely, quite.

Nikki Haley on Slavery

Here at Bulletholes we occasionally feature women that we have crushes on. Nikki Haley doesn't quite make that list, but we do see her as an outstanding presidential candidate and could see ourselves voting for her the way we could have voted for Mitt Romney or John McCain. Or Chris Christie even.
In the meantime we would advise her to read and reread Lincoln's Gettysburg address.

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle field of that war. We come to dedicate a portion of it, as a final resting place for those who died here, that the nation might live. This we may, in all propriety do.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate we can not consecrate we can not hallow, this ground The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have hallowed it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here; while it can never forget what they did here.
It is rather for us, the living, we here be dedicated to the great task remaining before us that, from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here, gave the last full measure of devotion that we here highly resolve these dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the the earth "

FAR FROM PERFECT

Its probably not going to be a popular opinion, but as I sat at the Gastroenterologist office last week studying the diagram of the human digestive system I couldn’t help but think God could have come up with something a little more simple, a little more elegant, especially considering some of the symptoms I was experiencing.
What a mess.

Where Do It go?

When I was in the hospital last year they weren't going to let me leave unless I had a bowel movement. I kept telling them I hadn't eaten in 3 days there was just nothing there. They insisted there had to be something.

I said "You know, I can eat a footlong Subway sandwich and I only get an inch and a half out. I don't know where it goes. I can't explain it, but if you don't let me eat something I will be here forever. Until the end of time."
So they gave me a cup of broth and an enema.
21st century medicine.

We Do Recover

I made something for my daughter for a birthday present in 2002. It was a horse head, fashioned with colored grout glued to a piece of travertine. Before you go thinking what a sweet thing to do, you should know that the reason I made it was because I had no money, no job, no visible means of support. I was down, down to the dirt man. Deep in my addiction, I didn’t have two thin dimes to rub together to buy her a birthday present. So I made this stupid horse. It looked like a third grade art project. And though I felt a lot of shame giving her this gift, it was all I could do. I’m not sure what they call it when you pretend to not be ashamed, but what ever it is, that was me. I don’t recall if Aubree liked it, or thought it was dumb, or if she was delighted. I really don’t know.

So fast forward 21 years and her step dad calls me and says he has a box of stuff I might be interested in. And among several items that darn travertine horse head was in there.
The strangeness of this life sometimes cant be measured. I can hardly describe or explain the gratitude I felt to see this thing. And all that shame from all those years ago had faded away and left a wonderful sense of humility.

So I called Aubree and asked it she remembered this horse head. She kinda did. I told her how it looked like third grade art project and we laughed, and I sent her a picture of it.
“Yes, I DO remember” she said “And dad, its really not that bad. You can tell it’s a horse.”
She is very kind. And she kept it.
I plan to hang it on my wall somehow. Its like a prize, a trophy, a badge.
A crown of thorns.
We Do Recover

Raymond Carver

 

Woke up early this morning and from my bed
looked far across the Strait to see
a small boat moving through the choppy water,
a single running light on. Remembered
my friend who used to shout
his dead wife’s name from hilltops
around Perugia. Who set a plate
for her at his simple table long after
she was gone. And opened the windows
so she could have fresh air. Such display
I found embarrassing. So did his other
friends. I couldn’t see it.
Not until this morning.”
― Raymond Carver, All of Us: The Collected Poems

The Numinous

“We drove 22 miles into the country around Farmington. There were meadows and apple orchards. White fences trailed through the rolling fields. Soon the sign started appearing. THE MOST PHOTOGRAPHED BARN IN AMERICA. We counted five signs before we reached the site. There were 40 cars and a tour bus in the makeshift lot. We walked along a cowpath to the slightly elevated spot set aside for viewing and photographing. All the people had cameras; some had tripods, telephoto lenses, filter kits. A man in a booth sold postcards and slides -- pictures of the barn taken from the elevated spot. We stood near a grove of trees and watched the photographers. Murray maintained a prolonged silence, occasionally scrawling some notes in a little book.
"No one sees the barn," he said finally.
A long silence followed.
"Once you've seen the signs about the barn, it becomes impossible to see the barn."
He fell silent once more. People with cameras left the elevated site, replaced by others.
We're not here to capture an image, we're here to maintain one. Every photograph reinforces the aura. Can you feel it, Jack? An accumulation of nameless energies."
There was an extended silence. The man in the booth sold postcards and slides.
"Being here is a kind of spiritual surrender. We see only what the others see. The thousands who were here in the past, those who will come in the future. We've agreed to be part of a collective perception. It literally colors our vision. A religious experience in a way, like all tourism."
Don DeLillo, White Noise

On a rainy day like today I worry I might go to the Grand Canyon and come away uninspired.
A picture perfect barn? A restored ’59 Chevy Apache?
I really prefer my barns decrepit, weather-beaten, barely standing. My trucks all rusted out with broken headlights and a birds nest in the wheel wells
Like the State Fair. Big Tex? Dumb. Almost as dumb as those gaudy Angels on Bass Hall. Unless you can catch him on fire. now that's a picture.
The Car Show? Yawn.
Fletchers Corny Dog, ok, yeah yeah yeah, I get it. I like the corny dogs. And I like the Art Deco sculptures
But the high point for me, the sight that inspires me in a spiritual way, is watching the kid in the wheelchair at the rodeo, his chair positioned where they let the handicapped sit right up next to the arena rails, so close your hair blows back when the horses fly past.
That is the best..
The Numinous.

Gizmo the Goat

I came home from work one day last year. My son is on the computer. He looks up and says“Hey look dad, I can get us a pygmy goat!”
“Oh yeah? Lets see”
He shows me the goat on the computer. Eighty five dollar for a goat.
“Wouldn’t that be great?” and he laughs.
“Oh yeah, that’s just what we need is a goat” and I laugh.
“We could ride him. He could keep the grass mowed. Maybe teach him to do tricks”
But the look Lee has on his face, his head on a bias, licking his lips, and the faint (overpowering) smell of alcohol on his breath, I’m afraid he might be serious.
‘Say man, you are just foolin’ around, right? Because we can’t have no goat around here. I lead a simple life. It does not include farm animals and feed. My only experience with goats is when my grandfather gave me a bicycle and a goat ate the seat and Grandpa shot the goat. Goats are bad luck”
“Yeah, I’m jus’ foolin’ around” he says “but wouldn’t it be cool?”

The next day I come home from work. Walk in the front door. Where’s Lee? Must be in the backyard. So I go to the back door, open it and what do I see? It’s a pygmy goat. Wearing a tactical vest. A goat in a tactical vest. He looks like he is about to invade Afghanistan, and he is in my backyard.

And there is Lee, grinnin’ ear to ear.
“You did not go get the goat I told you not to go get” I say.
I’m pissed.
“But dad, Gizmo will keep the yard mowed”
I’m even more pissed. The goat even has a name.
“I have a lawnmower. He will eat the house. He cant stay. You have to find someplace to take him because he can’t stay here.”
“But Dad…” and he tries to sell me on the goat.

I don’t want a goat., I don’t even want a dog. Even a goldfish is pushing it. My backyard is not a pasture. I have no idea what the zoning ordinances are. I don’t NEED to know because the simple fact is I’m not keeping a goat in my backyard. I give him three days to get shed of the goat.
Over the next 48 hours the goat escaped the backyard CONTINUALLY. Completely outsmarted my son on the daily. And the smell. This goat smelled like rotted buck mutton. The whole yard smelled. The FRONT PORCH smelled like goat. Finally on day two of goat hell the goat escaped and Lee wasn’t here to run him down.  I found myself running down the street in my underwear to drag the goat to the backyard. Which is exactly what I promised myself I would not do. But I'm liable for the goat. What if Gizmo eats some kids bike? Or gores some three year old with his pygmy goat horns? Will my homeowners insurance cover that kind of thing? I think not. About that time Lee Showed up.
I was livid.
"I want that goat gone tonight. That’s it. I am done"
Lee looked at me and blinked his eyes.
*BLINK-BLINK*
“Dad, I got some fencing material to put up to help keep him in”
And that was it for me.
I was screaming.
‘You aren’t listening to me! That goat can’t stay. In fact, forget tonight. You and the goat are gone RIGHT NOW. If Gizmo is still here in five minutes I’m going to shoot him in the head”
I don’t think I’ve ever been that mad.

So over to Granny’s he and Gizmo went. Gizmo got out at Granny’s too. We don’t know for sure what happened to Gizmo, but I’m betting he never got out again.

Delilah

Apparently Delilah loves Tom Cruise. Big fan. We have watched Jerry Maguire, Top Gun, Vanilla Sky, War of the Worlds, all big hits with Delilah.
Interview With the Vampire, maybe not so much.
When she found out that Top Gun had a sequel- Maverick- she was very excited. Ran circles around the room. Ran circles around the whole house. So I loaded up Maverick and we watched it. Her eyes never left the screen.
But when it was over I asked her "What did you think?" She turned to me and rather laconically said "It's just not the same without Goose"

NOPE

I cannot squint my brain enough to see this connection.
Perhaps someday they will build a monument for Mr. Trump commemorating how he exposed the rampant voter fraud--unlike the blaring inequalities and civil rights abuses that Dr. King exposed and fought against-- that there seems to be scant evidence of.

Not buying it.

Mysterious Russian Soul

I had almost forgotten about my Ukranian blog buddy Crazy Ivan. He had to go underground last year when Russia invaded. But I see he has managed to post some of his wonderful broken prose recently. From the Russian it goes like this...

~About the mysterious Russian soul~
"Granted that I took my keyboard and plunged into the cauldron of absurd reality, where naivete and fearlessness play in clear contradiction with the geopolitical madness. Let's take a closer look at this mosaic psychosis, which, like a whirlwind, takes us into a world of persecution of logic and the suppression of everything reasonable.
What the Russian people are really good for is their familiarity. Two hundred years ago, the great Saltykov-Shchedrin (image below) wrote that the task of the authorities is to keep the people in a state of constant amazement. He, perhaps, thought that he was joking so subtly and bitterly, and meanwhile the authorities took this rule into service, and for two hundred years of unceasing amazement developed in the Russian people a total immunity to this feeling. And then, of course, it was our turn to be amazed.
They cannot be defeated in the sense that they do not understand the meaning of the words victory and defeat. And this is a kind of wisdom, because for them victory from defeat will be no different. Victory - they will go home to thump, and the authorities will take all the money from them in the form of taxes. Defeat - they will go home to thump, and NATO will take all the money from them in the form of reparations.
And here, my dear friends, comes the moment of truth. What is all this madness about? The answer is simple: in the Russian habit of being indifferent. For two centuries now, they have been patiently catapulting from reality to reality, like drunken acrobats in a circus arena, where yesterday Kiev was burned in a day, and today they live in a world where everything that remains of the Black Sea Fleet is trying to hide from sea drones, and the film "Barbie" can, if you're lucky, watch in the Saratov cinema in a not very bad pirate screen.
Forget about the rest of the world - that's their secret to happiness. They, like the heroes of Amber, jump over the edge of perception, swaying between realities, like a drunken clown on a high spire. And what drives them? And nothing but fearlessness. They allow themselves to fall into the nirvana of the unknown, for they know that nothing has changed, nothing will change. So they live, plowing the expanses of their insensitivity.
Capture Kyiv in three days? Yes of course.
Let's surrender Kherson? Yes of course.
Will Prigogine take Rostov and go to the Kremlin in a tank? Well, yes, it is logical.
Drones will fuck up in Moscow City? Well, yes, that's how it should be.
Yes, they do not give in to delight, because they have long ago moved the arrows in their internal indicator of surprise. Now they, like the captains of the Black Sea Fleet, who drowned everything in a puddle, confidently nod their heads, realizing that victory and defeat are just jokes in the palette of their indifference.
And the day will come when the Trident will be erected over the Kremlin. The day when the planet will be shocked by the genius of the Russian strategy: "First we lose in order to try to win later!" After all, only a Russian can easily translate the saying "pull a star from the sky" into reality, calmly sitting on the couch with a pack of seeds.
Trident? Above the Kremlin The policeman now beats not because you have a Ukrainian flag, but because you do not have a Ukrainian flag? Well, yes, it is logical.
All that remains is to call for respect and admiration. Respect for their magnificent ability to remain indifferent to everything that falls on their tiny world. Admiration for this masterful game without surprise, for this soul dancing on the verge of absurdity, which may not be amazed, but does not plunge into the abyss of the unknown.
Maybe it's their defense, their armor, their way of not being overwhelmed by either victory or defeat. After all, for them the meaning of the words was lost in this whirlwind of apathy, and they just watch the whole performance with a smile on their faces.
Perhaps this is because they have long since lost their souls. Without a soul it is impossible to be amazed"

The Psych Ward

I did end up in the psyche ward once. The ex wife took me in. The doctor came out with his clipboard, asked me a bunch of questions, wrote stuff down.‘
"Any thoughts of killing yourself"
“No not too much”
‘Are you doing any illegal drugs”
“Yes”
“What kind?”
“Meth mostly”
“What does that do for you?”
“Makes me feel good, and funny. I’m funnier on meth”
“A comedian?” he asked.
“Yes, kind of” I said and he wrote something on his clip board.
“Do you ever drive while you are using?”
“Yes, all the time”
“Don’t you think that’s dangerous?
“No”
And he wrote something down on his clipboard.
“If you have been up all night, and you get in the car to drive the kids somewhere, you don’t think that’s dangerous”
“No, not really doc”
And I thought about it for a few seconds and added
“You know the dope I do, that’s the same dope they give fighter pilots”
The doc looked at me over the tops of his glasses and said “Oh, so you are a fighter pilot now” and wrote something on his clipboard.

Desperate in Fort Worth

 Dear Meow Town Kitty Rescue

I am desperately seeking help with a population of feral cats. I have lived here almost four years. The lady next door is an invalid. In addition to having a house full of cats, her mother fed a whole bunch of feral cats from her driveway when she would come to visit. These cats like to use my yard as a litter box. Regularly I am overrun with feral cats. They probably produce three to four litters a year. I have put up with it for almost four years.

Two weeks ago the lady next door died. The house is now vacant. The lady's mother is no longer able to come and feed these feral cats. I thought that would be the end of it. Without food and water the cats would disperse. Now the lady across the street has taken upon herself to feed them. She brings food and water into the driveway next door.

I spent several hours this week researching what, if anything, I can do about this. My plan was to trap spay and neuter. And return, which everything I read says will help control the population. After several hours of research I find it this would be difficult for me to do. The schedule of the free clinic is sporadic at best. I have called animal control and complained about this lady across the street feeding and watering the cats. As of today I'm not sure what if anything can be done about that. It hard to tell if it is illegal or not to feed feral cats. I'm told that it is.

I did suggest to the lady across the street that if she wanted to operate a 24/7 cat feeding station she should do it from her own driveway instead of my neighbors vacant house.

Of course she declined. A friend of mine that loves cats said she is probably worried about the cats having to cross the street. I told them yes that would make two things, the other one being she doesn't want all those cats at HER house.

One of the suggestions the humane society and animal control websites have is to contact a cat rescue. So that is what I'm doing. My yard smells like a litter box. On hot and humid days it's horrible. Is there anything here you can do for me?

Thank you for your consideration;

bulletholes

TURNING THE WORLD AROUND

I like it when I go to Sonic Drive Thru, and the girl taking my order sounds like she is new, and she stumbles over the order a little bit (unsweet raspberry ice tea, easy ice) and when she comes out the door I can see that she is worried, tentative, maybe her last customer was mean, but she comes out the door, she's frowning and uptight, she looks up and sees me, and I give her my biggest best smile. I can see the worry melt off her face, her shoulders relax and now she is smiling too, she gets to the car and I give her my best hello and thank you, now she's half laughing happy and relieved and says your welcome and confidently skips back to the door, what a great day at work she must be thinking. Its not much, but its good to know you can have that kind of power -- to turn the world around, upside down even-- if you just pay attention to someone besides yourself.

SHE ROLLED HER EYES

I went through the Burger King drive through yesterday.
“I’d like the #1 Whopper with no cheese, no ketchup, and extra veges. Fries and a diet coke.”
“Would you like cheese on that?” they always ask.
Always always always.
Sometimes they will interrupt me right after I say “”the #1 Whopper” to ask about the cheese.
I try to remain polite and repeat for them:
“No cheese, thank you, and no ketchup, with extra vege's. Fries. And a diet coke”
They will repeat the part about the cheese and ketchup, but usually they get hung up on vege's.
“Is that like the pickles?” they ask.
“Yes, pickles, tomato lettuce and onion”
They repeat back “ Pickles, tomato and lettuce”
“And onion” I remind them “with a diet coke and fries.”
But now its time to revisit Ketchup.
“The Whopper already comes with Ketchup” they say.
“Right. No ketchup for me please”
But by now I am a little worn out and I’m starting to lose patience. So when there is a 10 second stretch of silence as they ponder what a vegetable is, and then ask me again “Would you like cheese on that?” even though I know they are hard-wired programmed to ask me about cheese because cheese is a little confusing, there is always a lot of confusion over cheese, especially when you order a cheeseburger and ask for no cheese, which doesn't happen to be the case right now, but one can never be too sure about cheese, I’m probably not all sweetness and light when I scream “NO! NO CHEESE”.
Then when they ask what kind of drink, and if I want "fries with that" it just about does it for me because “”the #1 Whopper” includes fries at least in theory.
I’ve learned to take a deep breath, and in the softest most angelic voice I have “Oh! I would love a diet coke. And yes, fries would be nice.”.
But yesterday. Yesterday. Let me tell you about yesterday.
After going through this exercise and getting to the window they weren’t done with me yet.
She handed me the bag and I asked if she had put ketchup in there for me.
“I thought you said “NO Ketchup” she says, obviously perturbed.
“Right. No ketchup on the burger.”
“So you want ketchup NOW? she says.
“Yes please, for my fries”
And that’s when she rolled her eyes. She really did.
She rolled her eyes.
But that’s OK. I figure I deserve it.
All those times at the Jack-in-the Box on lunch break with your 3 very stoned friends, 1975. The driver rolls down the window, smoke pours out.
Jack: “Can I take your order?”
Driver: “Ummm, yeah man, what did you want?”
Backseat #1:“A coke, a super taco, and some fries”
Backseat # 2 “ Lemme have a Whataburger with no pickles and a shake and onion rings”
Driver “Dude we are at Jack in the Box”
Backseat #2 “Huh?” (muffled laughter)
Driver: “Dude, I’m trying to order, we are at Jack-in-the Box, get a fucking grip”
Backseat #2 “Is that where they have the big Macs?” (car explodes with laughter)
And it just goes downhill from there, right?
Once you started laughing, that was it.
How we didn’t starve, I don’t know.

H&I SUBCOMITTEE REPORT FOR JANUARY, 2010

 The January H&I Meeting was held January 17^th at 1:30 pm. This coincided quite awkwardly with the Cowboys kick-off time of 12 noon for the divisional playoff game, so on Friday I sent an Email to the H&I Secretary that read:

“It is quite likely that I will be experiencing car trouble on the way to the meeting Sunday and might be late, if “car trouble” means “the Cowboy Game” and “might be late” means “don’t hold your breath”.

 

So here are the Top Ten reasons that I should have gone to the H&I Meeting on Sunday, instead of watching the Cowboys: 

 

 

Top Ten reasons that I should have gone to the H&I Meeting:

10) It would have been the “next right thing to do”.

 9) Shawn G. was there with his report from Springwood. He can no longer be considered “Gone Rogue”. It had been so long, no one knew him.

 8) The new “Guidelines for H&I Service” were accepted and voted in.

 7) Lynn J at the Avalon Correctional Facility is in need of a Co-chair, and Cleve needs a Co-Chair at McFadden Ranch

 6)  Concept #4 :”Effective leadership is highly valued in Narcotics Anonymous. Leadership qualities should be carefully considered when selecting trusted servants.” So, here I am.

 5) Concept 6. “Group conscience is the spiritual means by which we invite a loving God to influence our decisions.” The Cowboys and I  could have used some of that.

 4)  “What do you do with 5 Gallons of leftover Rotel , a dozen helium filled Cowboy balloons, and plane tickets to New Orleans for the Super Bowl… Make Lemonade?

 3) “Working in service is one of the most satisfying things about recovery.”

 2) Minnesota 35, Dallas 3

 And the #1 reason I should have gone to the H&I Meeting…

1) The indelible image burned into my brain of Kat B dry-humping a horrified Mike M (he is gay). in front of the TV on Angela’s Living Room Floor.

 And that is my report.

 bulletholes

GANGBANGERS

For David K at Live and Learn, who has walked 1100 plus (almost) consecutive days at the nicest little park you would ever want to see. But they have erected another kayak stand, which obscures one of the wonderful views at this particular park of Dave's. 

Be thankful you don’t have any Muscovy ducks. Or don’t seem to. There are no pics you’ve posted of Muscovy's, and probably for good reason. It is one ugly duck. Now I don’t have anything against one ugly duck, I’m a kind person and not that good looking myself. On a duck by duck basis, I’m sure they are fine animals and worthy of love, or affection even. But as a group they can be rather disturbing. We have them in the parks down here. They are like duck gangbangers. They like to hang out at walkway intersections, panhandling for crumbs. 

There is usually a leader of the duck gang, you can tell by the leather jacket and cigarette butt slouching out of the corner of his mouth. If you don’t give them crumbs, they will follow you, squawking and in increasing numbers as you walk along, and you find yourself wondering which one might be packing heat. Its very disconcerting, threatening even.
I would trade these ducks for a kayak stand any day!

LETTERS TO JAIL 2018

Hi ******!
Your mom is doing pretty good, all things considered. She's had like 6 surgery’s in 4 months, and now after getting the kidney removed she finds out she has a hernia and will probably need ANOTHER surgery next in April. I don't know how she does it.

Hope you are hanging in down there. I have a good friend in Henley, you should keep an eye out for her. Her name is ******, but she goes by Grace. That's like her "Jail" name or something. When I first came to NA she was one of the darlings of the group. Had 8-10 years clean I think. She had this wonderful story about herself and finding self-worth. Then she relapsed. And relapsed again. Went to jail, relapsed, then went to jail again, and now she is hoping
to get out this summer.

Me? I used for like 35 years and never got in trouble (with the law). but I burned my good life down I don’t know how many times. Then finally the law caught me.
I asked the guy I got busted with what was going to happen.
"Oh, its no big deal" he says "They'll give you 2 years, but you'll only do 6 months"
I'm like "NO BIG DEAL?" What are ya talking about? I am not a prison guy. I won't do well in there."
So the state gave me a program where if I stayed clean a year I wouldn’t have to go to prison. The big surprise for me was that I COULD stay clean. After 6 months I wasn’t just doing it. I was digging it. I didn’t expect that. I half figured I'd stay clean a year, then go back to using. Anyway, I don't wanna preach to ya, but I thought I'd send you a note and tell you to look for Grace. I sent her a note to look for you.
I'm very blessed. I have no idea what its like down there.
Peace to ya *****,

Steve r

UNREQUITED

Unreciprocated romantic attraction was explored by comparing narrative accounts. Unrequited love emerged as a bilaterally distressing experience marked by mutual incomprehension and emotional interdependence. Would-be lovers looked back with both positive and intensely negative emotions, whereas rejectors were more uniformly negative in their accounts. Unlike rejectors, would-be lovers believed that the attraction had been mutual, that they had been led on, and that the rejection had never been communicated definitely. Rejectors depicted themselves as morally innocent but still felt guilty about hurting someone; many rejectors depicted the would-be lover's persistent efforts as intrusive and annoying. Rejectors constructed accounts to reduce guilt, whereas disappointed lovers constructed them to rebuild self-esteem. Rejectors saw would-be lovers as self-deceptive and unreasonable; would-be lovers saw rejectors as inconsistent and mysterious.