Hmmm...I'm divided by this. It would depend on what mood I met myself in. I'd either hate myself, in a disgusted, irratated sort of way, or think I was the most awesome of awesome. Actually I think I would piss myself off imensely in love/hate sort of way. Still at least some one would have my back.
Currently submerged under an avalanche of books and paper work. I may come back up for air from time to time.
Real life awaits and she is a demanding mistress.
I'd probably think I was weird at first and then I'd say something bitchy and funny and I'd decide I liked myself after all. Unfortunately, nobody would take the initiative to keep the friendship up and we'd drift apart.
“There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old’s life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other, of course, involves orcs.” ~ John Rogers
Yes, I think I would like myself, but I think we would first have to set up a mutual understanding of how things were to function in order to share a balanced, healthy, successful friendship.
We'd have to recognize early on that there's simply not enough room for the both of us to coexist in perfect harmony. Our similarities, although comforting in the beginning, would soon become annoying if we spent too much time together and we would have to distance ourselves from one another to keep from pissing the other one off/getting in each other's way. We would probably consciously recognize the benefits of keeping one another around, but I can't see us interacting on a frequent basis because of the recurring conflict. Everything would become a competition. And I think if we didn't address that fact early on we would quickly find ourselves at odds.
a little less conversation, a little more action please
. captain's blog.
Only if he changed sex, personality, Mbti and enneagram types, and appearance; stopped being such a flippantly supercillious know-it-all, and laid off the tedious psychoanalysing, because I fuken hate it when people know more than me about something, especially if that something's myself. If all these conditions were met I might quite like her; maybe I'd even fancy her, who knows?