My new motto

Reciprocity ... or Return to Sender

At work, I get back so much mail from people who don't know their damn addresses it's unreal. Seriously, I had one application from someone who wrote down their address, complete with the wrong zip code. IN INK!

How the fuck you don't know where you live?

(Actually, how the fuck and I already digressing?)

So, as I was saying - for various reasons I get lots of mail returned with that yellow sticker from USPS ... RETURN TO SENDER [insert reason here]

: No mail receptacle (wait - your dumb ass don't have no mailbox?!?)
: No such address (are you fucking kidding me?)
: Recipient No Longer At This Address - Forwarding Time Expired (Fuck. Me. How long have you been using this bullshit address?!?)

... seriously, the list goes on and on and AWN! ugh.

Remember this dude I had been on a date with? Who was nice and I was going to look past all the things JACK would focus on? The one who I picked up (he has no car). I picked up the tab because *I* was the one who asked him out. Yeah - him.

He's made zero attempts to see me again, rarely initiates texts or IM conversations and doesn't really call. I've even been to the store he works at ... I ask for permission and he said he was looking forward it ... I went, saw him for about 30 seconds and the text I got later was "I'm glad you came by - it was good seeing you again"

But no attempts to take the reigns and actually ask me out ANYWHERE.

So, I got to thinking about how mail is the only thing that seems to come back to me. At least it comes back with reasons. And from that place grew my motto - like a seedling taking root in bad situation to teach me something new:

Reciprocity ... or Return to Sender.

From where ever he came, he can return. I haven't heard from him since except a 3am message this weekend, "I just passed your crib," alluding to his drive back to his house from downtown or boystown or wherever. I didn't respond - I'm just sending him back to his momma.

No really, he lives with his parents.