Fudge-packer

That's what he said. Honest. Given that he was attesting to his tolerance, I find it quite ironic.

Needless to say, he made me sad, and, these days I really don't need that. I got quiet and simply walked away. He chased me down and seemed genuinely upset that he had upset me. He wanted to know what he had said wrong. I just mumbled something about having a bad week. He pressed the issue, so I lied: I told him it doesn't matter. The truth is, it does, but if he doesn't know what upset me, then telling him won't make a difference.

He said he didn't want to lose me as a friend. Unfortunately, my internal censors were a little slow on the up-take... I scoffed, for want of a better term; I laughed, that is, but just a bit. He wanted to know what was funny. I couldn't tell him... I didn't know how to explain that all of my friends, the people who knew me -- knew who and what I was -- and wanted to be a part of my life and wanted me to be a part of their lives, are all dead... nearly twenty years now. I've been alone since.

He crossed "the line". It's funny... I hadn't realized that I'd drawn a line until he crossed it.

At the end of the day, how can you tell someone that they hurt you? I don't know... I guess you don't. Sometimes, you never get the chance. You just hope that it will all come out in the wash.