Saturday, February 28, 2009
I'm waiting...for the group of girls that I'm supposed to go with to the Law Med Mixer. So far, the night is progressing exactly as I stated previously. I'm wearing my black top and my dark blue jeans. I did my makeup...but decided to add blush and sparkles. My hair is sprayed and tied-back waiting to be unleashed...
So here I wait.
I recently heard something that made me very angry.
This guy I know, who is as sweet as honey...he cheated on his girlfriend ...with a girl with a big ass and big tits. I couldn't believe it. It's his fault. He clearly couldn't keep it in his pants (clearly). But ladies, I thought that we were different. I thought that we were better than that.
It's hard being a woman. PMS. Periods. Hormones. Weight gain. Emotional turmoil. Longing to be loved...Each of us has been there. So why the fuck would you want to cheat on someone that loves you? Full well knowing how it would feel to have her heartbroken? I just don't understand.
I keep thinking of Christmas time where my family would play Secret Santa. Everyone bought a gift and put it under a tree, and then opened them at the same time...After ooohhing and ahhhing at their presents we had the option of stealing another person's. I always thought this was stupid...I mean, HOW RUDE! How can you just walk up to someone and go...YOINK-mine now.
I'm thinking that going up to a girl and clearly stating that you would like to steal their boyfriend is A LOT better that sneaking around behind a bush going at 'er for a good 10 minutes and then pretending nothing happened...We're better than this.
And guys...you're ruining your reputation with this shit. If you can be so easily swayed by a pair of big tatas and sex then you are clearly pathetic and should have your dick chopped off to spare the human race your spawn.
I feel like I’ve been hearing a lot of idiotic conclusions about women being made by various men in the last little bit.
I was in a store yesterday and the radio was on. On the radio, I could hear a man talking about the recession. It was his expert opinion that the economy would benefit from a more conservative way of life … if women stayed at home and stopped participating in the work force.
Now, which women exactly is he proposing should stay at home? The ones who are single mothers with one, maybe two, maybe seven children to take care of? The ones who consider themselves feminists who have worked for years to earn equal rights in all spheres of life - perhaps beginning with the work force? Or perhaps the women who don’t need to eat, who don’t wear clothes, or sleep indoors, or make babies, or get sick or do anything that requires money to be sustainable?
I already told you that at karaoke last night a guy came up to me and told me he was quite certain that I directed my rendition of “I touch myself” to him.
Just how small is your dick? Because your big head and huge ego can’t be accidental. You must be trying to compensate for something. You saw me, thought I was cute, and assumed that I would incorporate you (strange creepy man) into my fantasies and would be longing for you while I’m alone.
Ok, maybe I haven’t heard a lot of idiocies about women … maybe it was just two. Or maybe these are the only two examples I am able to recall without exploding and killing us all. Because if these statements are examples of what general society believes about women …? Sorry, I couldn’t finish the sentence. I was thinking about slitting my wrists.
Lots of shit to get through...so...here goes.
Today is the Med Law Mixer. Yes, it is a way in which busy people get to know equally busy people with the intent that *hopefully* they will hook up and become resentful of eachother. I know, I know...does it seem like my bittnerness is coming out just a little too much these days? Honestly though, I know what this entire night is going to be like and by telling you I am hoping that itwon't turn out this way...
It will begin with me getting ready to go out. Black long sleeve with dark blue jeans. Putting on my makeup...foundation, lipstick, eyeshadow. Doing my hair...unleashing the ponytail and spraying it with hairspray so that it resembles something in nature. Thinking to myself..."Damn. Not bad." Walking....in my enormous black down jacket to the bar/coffee shop where this 'meeting of the minds' will occur. Feeling...sweaty and thanking myself for having the sense to wear black to avoid pit stains. Feeling...excited and anxious. Could this be the night where I meet him? Tonight? I end up seeing a couple of people I don't recognize on the dance floor...cute guys. Hot guys. Guys. I want to say something...to mingle, but I don't have the nerve. So, I sit down at a table with some girls in my year. We have a couple of drinks. I finally get the nerve to try to bust a move, and as I turn around....WHAM! Big tits and blonde is grinding up against hottie #1. Small tits and brunette is grinding up against hottie #2. Big ass and big tits is grinding up against hottie #3. Skinny skank is grinding up against hottie #4 AND hottie #5 (ladies, I regret using the word 'hottie' five times in a row...I'm quite aware that it is a riduclous word). I start realizing that I am nothing in comparision to these girls. I go back to the people at my table, chat with them for a little bit. Decide to call it a night and go home to watch The Office. I have to get up early...to study...you see.
This is a trap that I'm in. But secretly (shhhh...don't tell anyone), even though my mind is CERTAIN that this is exactly how the night will progress...something in me (my heart? hormones? biological clock?) says..."This could be it Anna" this could be the night that you find the love of your life because he'll see past your curly black hair and your 'not-so' current style and he'll be drawn to you-he'll see you for who you wish you could be. That girl that he was just dancing with, he'll smile at her and walk away...
Why do we do this to ourselves? Is it something that is just so inherent in us women that no matter how 'confident' and 'independent' we are, and no matter how we say "I don't need a guy!" there's this 'tickle' deep inside of us that craves for a love story...or in my case, mutual affection (and I'm not even talking his-and-her bath towels here). It's torture. It's what causes us the most pain when we walk home by ourselves and crawl into bed...because you realize for the 24th year of your existence that you will be alone-and so you start putting up the shield-"I DON'T NEED ANYONE!" while you swallow the lump in your throat.
Couples don't get it...Only singles do. I think I've heard every cliche in the book..."Your time will come," "I know it seems stupid, but they're right when they say you're time will come." "I know how you feel." "When you are not looking for it, you'll find him." "My boyfriend thinks your cute." "If I was a lesbian, I'd date you..." "The person you're waiting for is going to be EXTRA-SPECIAL."
Pardon my language, but fuck you (I told you I'm a compulsive swearer). If I hear one more cliche I will literally pour battery acid over the happily married/long term relationship bitch who says that to me.
So much for a positive attitude....
*image courtesy of flickr.com
We joined the freak show last night. The Beast, the Prima Donna and the Amazing Downer of Vodka Sevens. Who else was there? Some old rocker we named Hotel California. Two young guys who felt no shame about belting out pop songs while throwing their gangsta hands up all over the place - subsequently dubbed Korn.
Can you guess where we were yet? Yep - Karaoke
Also known as the place where complete strangers flaunt their vulnerabilities while crooning to a roomful of increasingly more inebriated people. The place where freak flags fly.
Speaking of freaks, you didn‘t quite fit in. But not for a lack of trying. You were respectfully dressed - you even tucked your shirt in. Kind of good looking. You told me I was a great singer which was instant proof that you are deaf because I sound like a combination of the tea kettle (that high pitched squeal) and a horse being flogged. But you seemed cute and like you were trying to impress me. Then you asked what song I had sung with Ava over there - "I Touch Myself". Said you were pretty sure that while I was singing I was looking at you (although I'm pretty sure I was drunkenly squinting at the tv screen trying to read the lyrics). You said I should sing something by the Spice Girls. I respectfully declined. You followed with “if you won’t sing the Spice Girls you need to give me your number”.
This is where I started to reassess your freakiness. I thought at first you were just slumming. Checking out how the other side lives. Then I thought, is he the Great Illogicator? If you don’t understand, let me try again. IF you won’t sing the Spice Girls … you NEED to give me your number. I’m missing the corelation. Then it hit me. Mr Bad Line.
Now, I’m not saying this because you were more of a freak than anyone else there, including my own little posse - just the wrong kind of freak. The last person you want to be is Mr Bad Line because the only girl you are going to start a future with is Ms Dim Wit. I’m giving you some constructive criticism.
There’s nothing wrong with going out as a freak but go big or go home.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Want much? Want too much? I do. And guys, it’s not my fault I’m neurotic. And no, I realize you are usually at fault for the shit in our lives - and I commend you for taking responsiblity for it - but this time it's not you either.
Sex and the City has shown me that not only do I want to work from home at a job I love, I want to have a great group of friends to go out to brunch and bars with, to be more brutally honest with than I even am with myself and to come to think of as sisters - oh yes, not just any friends will do, only the very best of girl friends. I also want an entirely new wardrobe with a wholly unique outfit for every single day. And a body that will not betray me no matter how old I get, how many men I bed, and how many hamburgers I stuff my face with. I want to have no money worries. Who doesn't want that? And a gazillion guys who think the world of me and would do anything within their power to make me smile. I want to be able to balance the perfect career, social life, love life and family life without breaking a sweat. I want passion in the bedroom after sharing a bed, bathroom, entire apartment for over a year and cleaning up after the other person and living with all their faux pases.
That part is especially significant. I might be able to intelligently conclude that sacrifice is a part of every relationship but Sex and the City has shown me that I should not have to make any. I currently live with a man who follows a bad day at work with a six pack of beer. And turns video gaming into an endurance sport. Who hawks a louie in the bathroom sink every day and never really thinks to do any housework. But Sex and the City has taught me to encourage him to cut back on the boozing (and to be completely insulted if he condemns my love affair with wine), to turn the video games off, to drag him into the bathroom to point out the gob and respectfully demand that he never do it again, and to entice him to join me doing housework by posing as a french maid. But where is Sex and the City when he becomes angry and insulted at my attempts to get my way? What does Sex and the City have to say when he accuses me of not wanting to date him at all but of trying to change him into someone he's not?
So I live with the occasional binges, the video games, the sink boogers and all the rest of the bad that comes with the good. All the while dreaming of a sexier, citier life. And not only do I want everything that comes along with that life, I fully believe that I deserve them. All.
That's not something you would catch me saying. My womb isn't frozen - it works, and it is available for room and board some day when I decide I'm ready. When I have a healthy relationship with a fantastic guy who is on board and ready to go. I’m not even on board yet so I don’t expect my current beau to be either. And that’s ok. But I was watching a show about babies and the host - who has none - claimed that she has a frozen womb and that many women these days without children are in the same boat. Which is disgusting and enthralling at the same time. There are so many things wrong with this show that I can't even count them and my mind is racing with ideas and anger while I'm writing this now.
But first things first, why can't we just say: "I don't want children myself" or "I don't want to start a family". It's ok. You're still a woman. We're not going to throw you off the boat because you've decided for whatever reason that you don't want to go through morning sickness, or be a role model for life, or push a watermelon through your vagina. Not wanting to do those things is entirely reasonable.
And guys? There are more women like me than you may be aware. You might feel pressures once you reach a certain age to find a nice girl from Pasadena to settle down with and start a clan of your own but we feel those pressures too and sometimes we resist them just as heartily as you do. So stop jumping ship because you think you know what’s coming. Sometimes, you don’t have a clue. And I hope you don’t find this too insulting but maybe I think that if you’re not smart enough to figure out I’m not ready for babies, I don’t want to help you breed little morons anyway.
But instead, some women who don't want to reproduce feel they need to put themselves down in order to express that non-desire. Or that they are not whole, not functioning women if they aren't planning on spending a year or two of their lives as an incubator.
Slightly sidetracked, I am in awe of how many nautical references I just made without even using the word seamen.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
At some point in time, every Jewish mother decides that their dream in life is for their daughter to marry one of the following;
1. A doctor
2. A lawyer
3. A dentist
Upon first glance, how could this possibly seem like a bad thing? These men obviously have a very good head on their shoulders, are incredibly intelligent, and are heading towards a career path that can leave you sitting pretty if you become Mrs. Doctor, Lawyer, or Dentist. So what’s the problem? Is it the fact that the majority of my family are doctors, lawyers, and dentists? Is it blatant rebellion in that I refuse to date anyone my mother deems as “appropriate”? Normally, the thought of “playing doctor” would be a turn on, at least for me anyway. That being said I have yet to date a doctor. However, I digress…So why do I stray from the ideal? I’ll tell you why.
Years ago, when I was 19, I dated my mother’s dream come true. He was 24, came from a good family, was attractive, charming (to the mother’s eye), and a dentistry student at the University. Sure, he was cute so when he called me to ask if I would accompany him to this art show his professor was hosting I said why not. We had a good time, and when he dropped me off, we made plans to go out again.
He took me to a bookstore this time which, might I say is a very good idea for a first date. Every book can bring up a new topic, or help you learn just a little something more about your date. We talked, got to know each other and had a great time. When he dropped me off do you think he kissed me? Nope. Maybe he’s shy, I thought. Did I have something in my teeth? Bad Breath? Third eye? Two dates and nothing…what was going on? The Dentist was best friends with a cousin of mine at the time so I knew he was into me.
On to date number 3. First, we went for coffee. While java jiving, The Dentist told me how he cannot stand it when people ask for his advice or dump their problems on him because as he says, he has his own shit to deal with. Really not something you say to someone who was at the time, completing a psychology degree with the intent of entering the helping profession. After the 12th conversation about molar crowns and root canals, it was apparent that the attraction was no longer. This was an immediate turn off. We then went to a movie, Austin Powers, Goldmember. We laughed, and after the movie let out had some meaningless chatter about the movie’s funniest moments.
Back in the car, The Dentist turns to me, and says, I really like you, and would like you to be my girlfriend. I felt like we had just had a business exchange. Should we shake on my response? Do I have to sign the pre-nup now? Of course, I was very nice and told him that although I enjoyed hanging out with him I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to be in a relationship right now. I added that we could still definitely hang out. He dropped me off and I didn’t hear from him again. It seemed like he was trying to secure a girlfriend before the start of his 3rd year of dentistry so he didn’t have to spend time trying to win anyone over. Apparently, year 3 is a tough one. Needless to say the whole experience left a ’bad taste in my mouth’. Pardon the pun.
*Sidenote – just because you lead a busy life, doesn’t mean you should slack off in the courting process or the relationship in general. Women want to feel desired, and wanted. Don’t think that just because you’ve put in the initial effort means that you should stop trying.
For weeks after that, my mother continuously asked what happened to the dentist. He was a dentist Ava, and he was cute. Eye roll, groan, and another eye roll. You never give them a chance, what’s so wrong with a nice Jewish dentist?
He’s just not for me ‘ma. Eye roll, grown, and another eye roll. You’re just preoccupied with that Asian boy you’ve been hanging around (otherwise known as the first great love of my life and whole separate series of blogs), I say again, he’s just not for me ‘ma.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure there are tons of wonderful men out there who happen to be doctors, dentists, and lawyers. What can I say? I prefer the artsy types. Sorry Ma.
I have always been Ms. Independent. I've gone through all the exercises: going to movies by myself, eating by myself, cooking for myself, going for walks by myself...Recently, I was chatting with a friend about wanting to go to Europe. He said something like: "I can see you going by yourself. You seem really independent and it would seem like something that I could see you do." At first I was flattered. So many young women these days constantly need someone by their side to do the most mundane tasks-getting coffee, eating, going to parties...I have mastered independence. I am sure that (minus my immediate family) I could do anything by myself and not even think twice about it.
But then I started to think...was this even a choice? Maybe I'm independent because I have been forced to be independent. I left off my last post thinking about what God would want. I should emphasize that I am not the Godliest of people-I drink, swear a blue streak, hate (most people), call people douche bags on a regular basis... But being single is like fighting against yourself and the world. You go through phases where you hate yourself and just want to know-what the hell is the matter with me?!?!? You go through phases where you think you are hot shit and everyone is starring at you because you look that good! You go through phases where your insecurity start to make you feel like you are not worthy to be loved by anyone. I've found that everything that happens in your life is meant to teach you something. This isn't some Christian principal...I mean, it's what my yoga teacher tells us everyday. My not 'being' with someone has taught me to be strong and independent and never to rely on someone to make myself feel secure in who I am.
This little tidbit of awareness taught me something very valuable...don't force a relationship.
I went through a phase about 5 years ago where everyone of my girl friends were dating. Eventually, some friends thought it would be awesome to set me up on a blind date.
Guys watch porn. Some of us ladies watch it too. It is probably the number 1 most common form of fantasy we indulge in. I like to indulge a little differently.
I’m an innocent flirt. I can’t always even think of another way to interact with people - male or female. I pick up on what kind of person they are, tell them what they want to hear, smile, blush … Don’t get me wrong. You step on my toes and I’ll drive them up your ass. I’m not a pushover. Just flirty.
So every once in a while a guy friend who knows me well knows that on a bad day, talking with me can be a bit of a pick me up. I might make this guy who is down in the dumps feel like the king of his castle again. And no, I’m not doing this selflessly - and YES, I do think we should think more highly of all the different kindnesses we bestow on each other and I do not think I should be judged for the specific type of kindness I sometimes impart on those around me. What do I get out of it? Funny thing about favours, they’re often returned.
It’s absolutely validating to have guys flirt with me whether I am interested in them or not. And it seems to make my current relationship stronger. Because I am capable of fulfilling my own needs if my beau is not available. It’s like respite. When he can’t handle the job, someone else just takes over for a bit. On a bad day, when my brain isn’t functioning properly and cannot seem to understand that I am strong, beautiful, intelligent, creative and wonderful, it will easily settle for being convinced that I am attractive - sexy even - witty and desirable. Who doesn’t want to hear that they’re alluring? If you don’t, tell me now so I can call your boyfriend or girlfriend and assure them that you never want to hear it again.
The only problem is, when you indulge in fantasy with someone else, you are not the head honcho in charge anymore. Most of the time, I can deal with that. I like sharing, and I’m not really that into power in the first place.
But you see, this one time, my normal go to fantasy lad was out at a party. He went home drunk and does what every inebriated slightly geeky person would do. He checked his face book. And low and behold, I was online. And he hadn’t had any action in a while.
“sayhh somtin sexy” came up on my screen. Thinking it was a joke, I said “something sexy”. Then, still in a joking mood, I told him I was scantily clad. He responded, telling me what he was imagining himself doing to me. I had somehow accidentally stumbled upon my first experience with cyber sex. Like any first timer, I was a little unsure of what to do next. Still not positive whether or not it was a joke but absolutely sure it was at least humorous and would make a good story, I told him what I would do next. That’s about as far as my power to control the situation lasted. Rather than having an amusing or titillating experience at all, I spent most of the evening responding with “No no no, that’s not the kind of sex I’m having” “Nope, I’m not doing that” and “Stop telling me I’m in ecstasy, I hate to break it to you but I’m not”.
I managed to return from fantasy land mostly unscathed, slightly disappointed and wondering if I needed to take a shower. I haven’t given up on it’s appeal as a vacation destination but the thing about vacations is, they lose their shine if taken too frequently. I’m thinking I’ll put my bags away and stay grounded for a while.
What a dream boat. I started dating this guy in March. By June, he broke up with me. Let me down easy -
Forgive me for the tangent but let me down easy? Come on. Every time someone lets you down easy you don’t let go at all. Because “it wasn’t you, it’s me” and then you figure you can just wait until the “bad thing” goes away and you can be together again. Or that if it wasn’t you, you can fix the other issues. Or hang around to be supportive while this poor dear (I mean Big Dick) tries to straighten out the problem.
Back to Dreamy Mc Boat. He just wasn’t ready for a relationship. Fine.
We continued having movie nights, parties, supper … breakfast … and everything in between for a year. My most passionate relationship to date we had at least one big fight per week. While we were fighting we divided “our” friends back up into his and mine. I remember having one fight because after fighting, he had shown up at a party one of “my” friends was having and I just wanted to have fun without him. Another fight spurred from watching 28 Days Later together after which he chased me around his house pretending to be a zombie. Because he obviously wouldn't know when enough was enough this resulted in me standing in the bathtub crying and threatening him with a plunger. To go along with each big fight we had one big make up session per week. We were known for “rocking the trailer” - literally.
Every week I was reminded “we’re not dating”. After each reminder I celebrated being single by picking kissable guys at the bar to make out with. They never held my attention for long. I was in love - or at least in intense lust - with Monsieur Bateau des Reves. I would call him, tell him what I’d done and how much I ‘loved’ not being his girlfriend.
The ironic part is, he loved not being in a relationship with me too. And not for the reason you’re thinking. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the free sex. He couldn’t say it, name it or even let me assume it but he could commit. That whole year I revenge-kissed upwards of 20 guys. He only kissed me.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Why is it that men enjoy screwing with the female mind?
Now all you men out there might be thinking "what mind games? We don’t play mind games. The only things going on in our brains at any given time are sex, porn, video games, and sports, it’s women who play the mind games"...true but from past experience and from what I've witnessed my friends go through, has shown me that men like power, thus they exert said power on the female mind.
For instance, if you don't like a girl but all of your peers think that you do, don't make the girl believe these allegations too. "Ohhh he likes you I can tell" says peers, “He’s totally picturing you naked right now”. "Really" says girl...guy smiles, guy blushes, guy looks down at feet and walks away, guy tells friends to shut up in playful manner. Guy smiles even though he does not like this girl in the romantic sense....DO NOT SEND THESE SIGNALS. You don't like the girl? Then say so. "I don't like you like that" says guy. Granted it'll be tough to hear but in the long run it's better than the run around for x number of months just to please the warped minds of one's peers and to get your own shits and giggles. Seriously, the phrase “He’s just not that into you” kind of has some merit here….
"I'll call you at 10" *angry mouth sounds* If you do not have any plans to call at said time then don't set a particular time because you're setting yourself up for fall out...of the bad kind. We will think that you have left us, or that you are simply being a turd and we will be angry at you, even if you have simply forgotten. Secondly, it may not seem like such a big deal forgetting to call because granted, us girls have our moments too but to a FAR LESS degree. And don't think that our lives revolve around the fact that you said you would call us at 10 or that we will stop breathing if you don't call us on time...just don't be a turd.
Further to phone etiquette, what is with the “3 day rule”? Gentlemen, when a girl gives you her number, she WANTS you to call her, immediately, cut the shit. Trust me, if she didn’t want you to call her you would hear the rejected sounds of Pizza Hotline or “I’m sorry, this number is not in service” ringing in your ears. Or, you wouldn’t even get far enough to receive a fake phone number, she would have to find her friends, or wash her hair, or walk the dog, anything to avoid the awkward ‘no, I don’t want to give you my number’ song and dance. So really, why bother waiting three days? This isn’t 1937, us girls have things to do, so start dialing and get on with it….we’re not going to call you however, some traditions us girls need to keep alive. Besides the sooner you call, the sooner the courting process begins and the sooner YOU get laid, everybody wins.
"What are you thinking?"
worst question ever! Girls, stop asking this question...guys, if asked this question don't avoid the response...only makes us girls think that you're thinking of other women or masturbating, or cheetos. Trust me; women will NEVER believe that you’re not thinking of anything…even if it’s true…it doesn’t matter.
Men and women play too many games with each other. Sometimes I wish we could eliminate all the drama and all be like monkey's; pound your chest once if you like us, and twice if you think we smell like feet.
Remember that date we went on? Do you need me to refresh your memory?I moved to Winnipeg with my boyfriend, and broke up with him a few months later. It just wasn’t working. So I was stuck in my new city and didn’t know anyone. But I’m stubborn so I stuck it out. I’m from a small town where everyone knows everyone. And if you don’t know someone you know their parents. Or siblings. Or your parents go to the same church as their grandma. There is no “dating”. You already know if you like someone or not and one night you happen to be drinking at the same bar and whoops! You hooked up. You are now in a relationship. Or you’re the town whore. One or the other. You choose.
So having never been on a date and being newly single in a city of strangers I figured I’d try that internet dating thing. A friend and I wrote silly profiles for each other and posted them and the emails started coming in: Everything from “hey. You. I think we should do it”, “You seem very sweet and grounded. Which church do you go to?” to “How are you? I’m ______. Do you want to chat?”
I made myself rules and everything and was very proud of myself for sticking to them:
- 2 weeks of chatting before meeting in person. If they’d stick it out through that, they couldn’t just be looking for a one night stand. Plus, I’d have time to ask them enough questions to find out if they’re a freak.
- First date in a very public place where liquor is readily available if the situation is overly awkward. Only one date per person per week (which sometimes still meant 4 dates per week – just with different people)
- Honestly tell them if asked that I was going on dates with other people too.
- No sex until 3 weeks after meeting them in person.
I thought these rules would keep me safe from the likes of you.
So you and I had been emailing for a while and on a gorgeous day after work you emailed to say “it’s awesome outside. Let’s go for ice cream”. I said sure. I’d be thrilled. I need to point out also that by this point you knew I was a vegetarian. And non-smoker. And I’m pretty sure you were aware that you called yourself a non-smoker in your profile as well. And said you worked in a warehouse.
So you picked me up and asked me if I minded you smoking (you must have forgotten that you didn’t smoke) and I was so confused I said it was fine. You mentioned working at the abitoire (where you slaughter animals all day - again, you must have forgotten that you don't work there, you work in a warehouse). You probably only talked about your work to put in context why you were missing your Gambler's Anonymous meeting for our date. You had been missing a lot of work and the only way to get your job back was to convince your boss you had a gambling addiction and wanted to get help. You said you had changed your mind. It was wing night at Smitty’s and we weren’t going for ice cream after all. I figured Smitty’s had a patio and probably served ice cream so it didn’t really matter.
When we got there you wanted to sit inside because it was too crowded on the patio. You said I could have whatever I wanted. I find it irresistible when my date will allow me to make my own choices. When the waitress asked what we were having you ordered yourself 3 plates of wings, a beer and said “that’s it”. The waitress left. I followed her and ordered the most expensive drink on the menu. When I sat back down you asked if I could move over a bit. My head was in the way of the hockey game on television behind me. I think I forgot to apologize but I hope you knew how very sorry I was.
I could have forgotten about you. But I thought it would be more productive for me to remember you. This way, I get to warn the women I meet that you can do whatever you want to protect yourself, but sometimes a freak or two gets through.