Last Thursday night, I was just minding my own business, squeezing onto an over-packed metro train, when I ran into a friend. She ended up dragging my ass out to a bar to see a band - a band from the "beach house years." So I thought that this might be just the thing I need - a little nostalgic shakedown of happier times because - if you have been reading along - January kind of sucks for me right now. I thought this night had happy potential.
"Oh God, take me to that happy place!"
So God looked down on my wishes and said, "Well I do have something in store, you won't be happy about it, but in the long run you will be in a happy place. Know that this is for you. Put on some tight jeans, put some silk mist in your hair and some black eyeliner, and go to that bar. Trust me." Then the basket of money was pushed under my nose and I knew I had to ante up my $5 charitable contribution - for the Lord speaketh (or cometh).
So what did before my eyes I see? But a tool in the likeness of Peter Pan, of Break-Back in 2 weeks!-Mountain fame. And so the bizarre story of Boy Who Was In Hot Pursuit Of Me nosedives - out of control - into Boy Who Is Purposely Fucking With My Heart. Because this boy was being quite friendly with some ugly girl with a big nose and 3 inches on him and a bad dye job - if I must be frank. I mean we look nothing alike - style or appearance-wise. But the worst part of all this? He KNEW I was there, we exchanged a very brief "hi" earlier and then he put on the show for me.
Cheeseball gropes The Nose. Tickets are NOT going fast. Pretty people sell pictures and they couldn't sell out the theater even if Francis Ford C. was directing. On second thought, they might be good extras in the next Star Wars. Yoda, anyone?
But I ask: For the love of God - WHY????
And this is when God graced me with consideration again. He listens to prayers because I was on the brink of either: (a) taking a turn to Crazy Town and confronting him (and her) and subsequently Lorena Bobbitting him right on the spot ("Yeah, go try hanging out in your white sweat pants now!"), or (b) cry, cry, cry, crying.
But God answered the prayers and decided to spare me Embarrassment. For that, I am grateful so I put an extra $5 in the money basket. Because at that very moment he sent in a savior in the form of - get this - a Cute Boy! I told Cute Boy the deal, expecting Cute Boy to run for the hills but he hung out with me and I did my own dirty dancing with the boy.
So I put on my own little show. Boa Gets Her Ass Grabbed. Private and limited engagement.
And I am all of 12 now.
At the end of the Dance Showdown I let the Boy With No Name walk me home and - in a possessed state - I invited him up for water. Isn't that an enticing offer? "Would you like to come up for a nice glass of water. I've got a Brita pitcher!" And he wanted water. Perhaps he thought he was getting more. It was 2 o'clock in the morning at that point. I did what any girl would do in that situation - I made out with him. I still was possessed - the visions of the night were haunting me. And first I kissed him and I thought, "Ooo, this is nice." And then no, not such much. He kept doing this downward jab with his tongue. So then I was bored and I was sad and the weight of all that happened that night just hit me. I sent him off and I laid in bed for the next four hours in and out of sleep with the weirdest dreams. Peter Pan making out with The Nose. Peter Pan moving on. Peter Pan being mean. Peter Pan as a totally different person. A wolf in sheep's clothing?
Sad. Sad. Sad.
But I gave the Boy With No Name my phone number. I totally see what is going to happen. This guy is going to be all over me because he knows that I am not interested in HIM - and since he is 25 I will NEVER date him anyway. But he just might be my distraction for the time being to get over Peter Pan.
I wonder if he is going to keep to our Feb. 5th date now...because by the looks of Thursday night he didn't appear to be giving our relationship any thought. I was caught off guard running into him in the first place and I snubbed his advance to hug me and kiss me. I was confused. But that is because we never discussed the paramaters of the "break" especially if we were to run into each other. And I have never been able to think on my toes.
Therefore if he is going to blow me - blow the whole thing off - then God, I have one more wish. Can you put Idiot Boyfriend in those white sweat pants again for my viewing pleasure? It helps as a model for the ugly picture that is being painted.
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