11/15/07
The name of the guilty here has been changed for no good reason. I don't think she has a myspace acct and I doubt she'll ever read this...
So, I met up with this woman, we'll call her Suzie Wong (in honor of the 1960 William Holden movie), for after work happy hour two Fridays ago at Library Bar in Downtown, which is a new-ish place right near, you guessed it, the Downtown LA Library. I thought things were going swimmingly. We had several rounds of drinks. The conversation flowed easily and she really only wanted to talk about two things; sex and sexuality. There was plenty of laughter and flirting happening back and forth. I was starting to think, "Hey. It's on. I'm going to have my hands all over this pretty Chinese girl later."
Had I been paying closer attention to the more obvious signs, I would have marked her drink order, Malibu and Diet Coke, with a big red flag: DANGER: MOST LIKELY LAME.
Eventually, the conversation turned to my apt and some of the odder nuances of my roommate-less situation. She told me she'd really like to see my place sometime, so I suggested we go back there immediately for more drinks, music and whatnot. She agreed. I went over to the bar, happily picked up the tab and we were off.
Had I known then what I know now, I would have been better off sitting on the sidewalk and burning 70 dollars.
We go back to my place. Suzie drives (naturally), stops for cigs on the way, parks her car in my garage and upstairs we go. Once inside, she spies my record collection and digs right in. I pull a book we were talking about earlier off the shelf, Illusions by Richard Bach, pass it over to her and then retreat to the kitchen to make a pitcher of frozen mango margaritas. When I come out with the drinks, she asks if she can borrow the book and give it back to me next time. "Of course!" I reply. Meanwhile, I'm thinking, "Next time! Yes!"
I don't loan out books (or records, cds, dvds, etc…). I know better. They don't come back. And this was a hard cover 1st edition. I guess we already know what I was thinking.
Anyway, we tear thru the better part of a bottle of tequila, all the while getting closer and more touchy-feely on the couch. Suzie, at some point, brings the topics of conversation to things like how much she enjoys anal sex, so long as it is only every once in awhile and how she's heard that semen is good for your skin. Yeah. I think Isaac Hayes was singing about "The Look of Love" on the turntable about then. I lean in to kiss her and get flatly re-ject-ed.
And, lemme tellya, there was nothing smooth about this rejection. Imagine trying to give a spoonful of poor tasting cough medicine to an eight year old. Arms extended straight out, head twisting to and fro… quite possibly my least sexy moment of the 21st century… certainly top 2.
Suzie informs me that kissing is gross. News to me. What's more, she just doesn't do that and how she thinks her and I are "just friends" (ouch). Oh, and hugs make her uncomfortable… and dating too (but not a dick up your ass?!, or letting me pay for everything, or drinking all the booze in my house?). Anyway, I remind her to look at her surroundings… man's apartment after 11pm, drinks, sexy music… I mean, sheesh! Whaddya expect?
So, she takes my book, leaves her cigs behind and splits. When I realize the book has left with her, I think I'm more upset about that than not getting to break off a lil' piece of her fortune cookie.
Mentally, I kiss the book goodbye. Then, a few days later I get an email from her saying how much she loved the book and how she wants to get together again to discuss. I write her back saying I'm glad she liked the book, but I'm not really interested in hanging out with her again if all she has to offer me is conversation. Otherwise, I'd be happy to just walk by her office one day, meet her outside and collect my book.
I thought my message was pretty clear. Apparently, it wasn't. I get an email back from Suzie saying she thought I was just trying to "humor her" when I tried to kiss her and how she had so much fun hanging out with me and how she wants to see me again, but NOTHING PHYSICAL (because that makes her uncomfortable). Say what? I start to think of ways to try to explain myself more clearly and then I figure, "what's the difference?" delete her email and move on.
Fast fwd to the beginning of this week, I get another email from Suzie saying she wants to return my book and take me out to lunch at Ciao's (the semi-fancy Italian place on 7th between Fig and Flower). Ok. I'll go for the book and the free fancy lunch, but really just for the book. I'm perfectly capable of making my own lunch, but I really want that book back just so I don't feel like such a sucker every time I see the empty dust jacket sitting on top of my bookshelf.
We make the date for today. Suzie calls yesterday to confirm. "Yes, I'm in. Don't forget the book."
Then, last night, a good friend calls and tells me to call in sick to work today and meet her in Venice for an informal business lunch w/ one of her partners and a new possible investor in their group, Mark Hamill… yes, that Mark Hamill… Luke F. Skywalker himself. I mean, oh my god are you kidding me? I don't get too excited about many (hardly any) celebs, but name me one person our age that wouldn't want to have lunch w/ Luke Skywalker? I'd so want him to teach me the ways of the Force just so I could go home and float knick-knacks around my apartment… while doing a handstand. I'm sure I could find a practical, 21st century application for the Jedi Mind Trick as well…
Of course, I can't go… because I'm meeting the lame Chinese girl for lunch… ok, and because I do have work that needs doing on my desk today… now Suzie tells me she's bringing one of her friends along to lunch as well… surely as some kind of buffer. This isn't going to go well… somewhere, god (Yoda?) is laughing at me… and if I don't wrap this up here I'm going to be late meeting them.
Luke F. Skywalker. Sheesh.
So, I met up with this woman, we'll call her Suzie Wong (in honor of the 1960 William Holden movie), for after work happy hour two Fridays ago at Library Bar in Downtown, which is a new-ish place right near, you guessed it, the Downtown LA Library. I thought things were going swimmingly. We had several rounds of drinks. The conversation flowed easily and she really only wanted to talk about two things; sex and sexuality. There was plenty of laughter and flirting happening back and forth. I was starting to think, "Hey. It's on. I'm going to have my hands all over this pretty Chinese girl later."
Had I been paying closer attention to the more obvious signs, I would have marked her drink order, Malibu and Diet Coke, with a big red flag: DANGER: MOST LIKELY LAME.
Eventually, the conversation turned to my apt and some of the odder nuances of my roommate-less situation. She told me she'd really like to see my place sometime, so I suggested we go back there immediately for more drinks, music and whatnot. She agreed. I went over to the bar, happily picked up the tab and we were off.
Had I known then what I know now, I would have been better off sitting on the sidewalk and burning 70 dollars.
We go back to my place. Suzie drives (naturally), stops for cigs on the way, parks her car in my garage and upstairs we go. Once inside, she spies my record collection and digs right in. I pull a book we were talking about earlier off the shelf, Illusions by Richard Bach, pass it over to her and then retreat to the kitchen to make a pitcher of frozen mango margaritas. When I come out with the drinks, she asks if she can borrow the book and give it back to me next time. "Of course!" I reply. Meanwhile, I'm thinking, "Next time! Yes!"
I don't loan out books (or records, cds, dvds, etc…). I know better. They don't come back. And this was a hard cover 1st edition. I guess we already know what I was thinking.
Anyway, we tear thru the better part of a bottle of tequila, all the while getting closer and more touchy-feely on the couch. Suzie, at some point, brings the topics of conversation to things like how much she enjoys anal sex, so long as it is only every once in awhile and how she's heard that semen is good for your skin. Yeah. I think Isaac Hayes was singing about "The Look of Love" on the turntable about then. I lean in to kiss her and get flatly re-ject-ed.
And, lemme tellya, there was nothing smooth about this rejection. Imagine trying to give a spoonful of poor tasting cough medicine to an eight year old. Arms extended straight out, head twisting to and fro… quite possibly my least sexy moment of the 21st century… certainly top 2.
Suzie informs me that kissing is gross. News to me. What's more, she just doesn't do that and how she thinks her and I are "just friends" (ouch). Oh, and hugs make her uncomfortable… and dating too (but not a dick up your ass?!, or letting me pay for everything, or drinking all the booze in my house?). Anyway, I remind her to look at her surroundings… man's apartment after 11pm, drinks, sexy music… I mean, sheesh! Whaddya expect?
So, she takes my book, leaves her cigs behind and splits. When I realize the book has left with her, I think I'm more upset about that than not getting to break off a lil' piece of her fortune cookie.
Mentally, I kiss the book goodbye. Then, a few days later I get an email from her saying how much she loved the book and how she wants to get together again to discuss. I write her back saying I'm glad she liked the book, but I'm not really interested in hanging out with her again if all she has to offer me is conversation. Otherwise, I'd be happy to just walk by her office one day, meet her outside and collect my book.
I thought my message was pretty clear. Apparently, it wasn't. I get an email back from Suzie saying she thought I was just trying to "humor her" when I tried to kiss her and how she had so much fun hanging out with me and how she wants to see me again, but NOTHING PHYSICAL (because that makes her uncomfortable). Say what? I start to think of ways to try to explain myself more clearly and then I figure, "what's the difference?" delete her email and move on.
Fast fwd to the beginning of this week, I get another email from Suzie saying she wants to return my book and take me out to lunch at Ciao's (the semi-fancy Italian place on 7th between Fig and Flower). Ok. I'll go for the book and the free fancy lunch, but really just for the book. I'm perfectly capable of making my own lunch, but I really want that book back just so I don't feel like such a sucker every time I see the empty dust jacket sitting on top of my bookshelf.
We make the date for today. Suzie calls yesterday to confirm. "Yes, I'm in. Don't forget the book."
Then, last night, a good friend calls and tells me to call in sick to work today and meet her in Venice for an informal business lunch w/ one of her partners and a new possible investor in their group, Mark Hamill… yes, that Mark Hamill… Luke F. Skywalker himself. I mean, oh my god are you kidding me? I don't get too excited about many (hardly any) celebs, but name me one person our age that wouldn't want to have lunch w/ Luke Skywalker? I'd so want him to teach me the ways of the Force just so I could go home and float knick-knacks around my apartment… while doing a handstand. I'm sure I could find a practical, 21st century application for the Jedi Mind Trick as well…
Of course, I can't go… because I'm meeting the lame Chinese girl for lunch… ok, and because I do have work that needs doing on my desk today… now Suzie tells me she's bringing one of her friends along to lunch as well… surely as some kind of buffer. This isn't going to go well… somewhere, god (Yoda?) is laughing at me… and if I don't wrap this up here I'm going to be late meeting them.
Luke F. Skywalker. Sheesh.
1 comment:
The fact that none of your posts have any comments made me think twice about actually leaving one, but then I decided, "Fuck it." What's a blog without comments?
I've read a few of your excellently crafted articles, and I agree that your luck with women translates beautifully into a manual on "Dating Don'ts." This particular tale was riddled with so many red flags, for a moment, I thought, "Surely this guy must be making some of this up." (And don't call me Shirley.)
I mean, who doesn't sneak out the back of the bar/restaurant when their date orders anything that contains Malibu rum? Just typing those words made me throw up a little in my mouth.
I'll let the fact that Ms. Wrong (a typo, but it stays) stopped to pick up cigarettes on the way back to your apartment, because secondhand smoke was the least of your worries. However, when she said she enjoyed taking it the ass, semen is nature's moisturizer, and then followed up with kissing is gross...well, that was a sure sign this chick had turned a trick or two, and you're lucky she left when she did. Suzie may have been gainfully employed at that point in time, but only hookers and porn stars don't mind a little anal or having a guy cum all over their face, but draw the line at kissing.
Personally, I would have let her keep the book rather than see her again, but I'm not a guy. What I don't understand is the ultimate sacrifice you made--choosing the chick who cleaned out your liquor cabinet and technically stole your book without so much as a HUG over Luke Skywalker. As a member of the male species, you fail.
But that's just my opinion, and, although I have an inkling you know it, I leave you with this:
"Whatever I do is done out of sheer joy; I drop my fruits like a ripe tree. What the general reader or the critic makes of them is not my concern." - Henry Miller on Writing (1964)
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