AJRMAN
The morning after
So I had that fucking date last night. By the sound of my tone, you'd think things didn't go so well. I met Mr. Asshole, at the Apache for drinks. Peter is a bit chubby, brown hair, and just a little taller than me. When I first met him at my job, he was wearing shorts and a Polo shirt. That's cool. I like casual. Tonight however, he wore cowboy boots, tight faded blue jeans, and a blue denim shirt with..........black and white cow prints on them. I've been in Los Angeles for over five years now. I have yet to see a ranch, cows, horses, or the "Range". Which gay stereotype did this guy come out of? The cowboy look is sexy. I must admit to that. But don't ruin it with black and white cow prints. The worst was that his boots weren't real boots. They were the cut off "Sissy" boots that sweeped the nation in the early Nineties. My first thought was, "Maybe I can pretend I am not me, and walk right by". But alas, that would do no good. Remember he gave me his number, so of course he would remember what I looked like.
We approached each other, and I reached out to shake his hand. Firm handshake. I like that in a man. We walked into the Apache, and he held the door open for me. I didn't like that. I mean who's the fucking man here? Me or him? We sat down at the bar. He ordered a beer and I did the same. He looked at me, and I noticed he had nice eyes. They had a sparkle to them.
I'm the worst on first dates. Because I lack the energy to go on, if I am not interested. I don't mean to be rude. But after awhile of listening to boring conversation, you start to get mad at the other person. So treating them badly seems to be the only way out. This is how our date started. We of course had the "What do you do, for a living" routine. Then it turned into me asking stupid questions, for fear of that pause in the conversation. Fear turned into frustration. Frustration turned to boredom. Boredom turned into hate, and hate turned me into a fucking Bitch.
He could tell I was not enjoying his company. I felt a little guilty. Just a little. I was setting up the conversation to where I could ungraciously go home. This is where things got out of control. A guy came up behind Peter and put his hands over Peter's eyes. This guy was hot. I mean HOT! Peter turned around, laughed out loud, and hugged this hotty of a man. This God, it turns out, is Peter's Ex-boyfriend. Hmmm. Peter doesn't seem so bad now. They chat for a few seconds. Peter introduces me to Paul. Peter and Paul, how cute. I must be Mary. I felt my jealousy button being thoroughly pushed. Paul is cordial with me, and excuses himself. Not before giving Peter another hug, and letting him know how much he misses him. How cute. Obviously Paul is a whore, and if he didn't get his hands off my man, I was going to Bitch Slap him. After Paul left, Peter spent a few moments commenting on, "How long it's been, since he's seen Paul" and blah, blah, blah. I didn't really pay attention at that point. I could only focus on how suddenly attractive Peter kept getting. He has such pretty eyes.
Our conversation from that moment on was fantastic. Everything he said, I really was interested in. Really. We had a few more beers, and decided to call it a night. I felt proud to walk out with him. He walked me to my car. We stood there and chatted. When I decided to leave, he even opened my car door. What a perfect gentleman. I got in, and he leaned in the window, obviously to give me a kiss goodnight. As I held my head in the Pucker position, what came next wasn't what I expected. "You smoke?" he asked. I said " Yes I do, but I'm trying to quit". I look at the area he's staring at. There must of been twenty packs of empty cigarette boxes, scattered all over the passenger seat and the floor beneath it. Stupid me, for not cleaning my car out. " Yeah, umm" he started to say, " I don't think this is going to work out". He turned and walked away. I sat there shocked. Watching him go to his car and drive away. He's dumping me? That fat asshole, is dumping ME? That wanna be cowboy, cow print wearing, sissy ass boot, fatty fatty shit fuck, is DUMPING ME? I kept saying it with more elaborate words. But in the end, it was the same. He dumped me.
Last night was a Jack in the box night. Bacon Bacon cheeseburger, seasoned curly fries, two double fudge cakes, and one milk. No need to buy two milks, to make it seem like I'm buying this for two people, it's obvious I'm a loser. Ho hum.