Far from Grace

Graceless Grace has been wondering why we haven't been meeting up that often although we're living - and working - barely a stone's throw away ( relatively speaking ) from each other.

I would have thought the answer's simple enough! But sometimes... though I do love her, I find Grace has to be one of the most obtuse and oblivious persons I've ever met. Tried gentle tactful hints to chide her on her plain-spoken speech ( that has disgusted one or two of our mutual buds ) but it's obvious that subtlety doesn't work with her.


Dammit. Are you even listening?
How do I phrase it politely? Grace is like cream, to be taken in small sweet doses with the coffee. Just a spoonful with the bitter coffee tastes heavenly but dump in an entire bucketful of saccharine sweetness and it makes you wanna puke.

No doubt it would take a literal bloody sledgehammer to hammer that particular message through to her. Though I know she honestly bears no malice towards anyone, very few people would be able to tolerate her sheer painful bluntness for long. Not even me - and my seemingly invulnerable thick hide.

Paul : Hi.
Grace : I see you look tired. Those eyebags look huge.
Paul : How have you been doing?
Grace : What's wrong with your hair? It's sticking all over the place. You should get a hairstylist.
Paul : It's the uncivilized barbarian out of bed look. Very hip, trust me. Been a while since we've had lunch.
Grace : Have you seen a dentist lately? Your teeth looks yellowed... do you smoke?
Paul : Like a freaking chimney. Thinking of trying marijuana next. It's nice to see you again by the way.

No. I don't smoke. I abhor smokers.

But then again I'd admit to butchering innocents just to get her to shut up.

Not sure why but horrifyingly she tends to be even more candid when I'm around. Perhaps it's as another friend told me, Grace foolishly assumes that our steadfast childhood friendship can withstand the brunt of her forthright outspokenness. But I can't! I'm vulnerable! If you prick me, do I not bleed? If you spend the entire hour callously pointing out my various faults ( that I already know about thank you very much ), shove them under a state-of-the-art electron microscope to dissect and examine thoroughly, do I not reach out for some sweet margarita to numb the pain?

Hence my mild hangover this morning.

Of course I could easily give as good as I got but the last time I tried that particular tough love tactic by returning her volleys with barbs of my own, she burst out crying. Guess Miz Grace can't handle her own brand of the truth.

So I can only meet Graceless Grace once every few months with well-spaced intervals in between. Give me just enough time to recover - stick on that precious band-aid or two - in between her peppering me with vicious verbal bullets that leave me bleeding superficially.

Hell if I met up with her every weekend, I'd be a raging alcoholic.