Suzie, pt. 2

1/10/08

Ok. Ok. OK!!! I heard you. I heard all of you. It seems my last post about Suzie Wong and the fiasco of a date we had back in November has piqued the collective curiosity. And, from what I've heard from you, my readers (aka so-called friends), is that you want to know how the story ends. I have enjoyed the nicknames some of you have hung on this girl. My favorites thus far are 2) "The Kissing Is Gross Girl" and 1) "Betty Book Club." More importantly, you all have questions that I've failed to answer…. Ok, hush yo'mouf, read on, and the answers will follow… after the obligatory explanation why I haven't added more to the original tale sooner.

I chose to write the story, or should I say, have it end where it does, because for the purpose of the tale being told (I like to think of it as widely based in fact) that was the point where I felt my own personal humiliation had maximized. That is to say, the story wasn't going to get any funnier, so I ended it. Or, at least so I thought until the questions and comments began rolling in.

Thank you to all of you who expressed outrage on my behalf for having a woman behave like that in my apartment on a date. I've had to remind a few of you that it wasn't just a piece o' the fortune cookie that I was denied. I didn't even get to first base. In fact, up until that night, if you had asked me when the last time I just tried to kiss a girl and got rejected was, then I wouldn't have been able to tell you. For those of you who enjoy basking in my humiliation, you'll be happy to know it has happened again since (different girl).

Ok, those of you who know me, know I am not one to kiss and tell. What I'm saying here is if you don't kiss, then I'm sure to tell and am likely to write a blog about it… maybe two.

Lunch was whatever that day. YES, I did get my book back. I know that is a big relief to a lot of you who had asked. Suzie did bring her uptight friend along. I was especially surly during lunch because a) I'm guessing she brought her friend along as a buffer, so I might as well be a lil' randy to at least make the buffer chick earn her lunch; and b) I got my book back right away, so I had nothing to lose. So, I ordered the veal as it seemed the most politically incorrect/offensive thing on the menu and then I spent the rest of the hour injecting the word "cock" into the conversation as frequently as possible… because if one thing was certain by that point, I wouldn't be injecting any cock into either of them.

I didn't really choose lunch with Suzie and the retrieval of my book over lunch with Luke Skywalker. Like I said before, this story, and all the other ones I write, are widely based in fact. The lunch w/ Mark Hamill that was originally scheduled with my friends that same day had to be postponed to the following day. No, I didn't make that one either, but I will have the opportunity again to meet everyone's favorite Jedi and learn the ways of the Force. If you start getting subliminal msgs from me telling you to, "let go" or "go to Degobah. Seek Yoda," then you'll know my training is coming along nicely.

A few days after the lunch, I got another email from Suzie saying she can't remember ever laughing so hard during a meal, and how she really wants to sit down with me over drinks again and discuss the book (because we couldn't talk about that at lunch because she had brought her uptight friend). I wrote her back and said that I'd be happy to talk with her about the book all she wants… after we fuck.

* Please remember this wasn't the first very direct email I'd sent this woman.

Apparently, she thought I was kidding because she wrote me back saying, "hahaha. You're too funny." Who's kidding? Anyway, I deleted her response and moved on. Then, a couple weeks later I got another email from her inviting me to come hangout with her and some of her co-workers for some holiday cheer at some bar after work downtown. I replied with something along the lines of, if you want to share some holiday cheer, why don't we just meet up at my place? I've got something special to slip in your stocking.

She wrote me right back, "I'm not sure I understand this new way you have of joking with me."

I responded, "Seriously. Who's joking?"

The end.