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My Last Friday. before/after
Ravelstock Girl:"You look like Tom Cruise."
Me (mixed message)"You look cute."
I was trying to be nice. As much as the hackneyed "You know who you look like? __________(celebrity)" bothers me, I tried to be pleasant. It came out all wrong. My words, although clumsy, were appropo. My body language and intonation said, "Fuck You, I look like ME."
She had been making pointed eye contact with me for awhile, and I played along. She was a cute blonde, dressed in black, with a command of the guys at the bar. After her like a pack of dogs, they were, trying to wear her down by persistence and numbers, it seemed.
And she made a point to come to me. First with the, "Hey, I'm blonde, good looking at I'm looking at you, dummy. Hee-eey." look, and now this.
But me, I'm just an ass sometimes. I bitch about not finding girls who are cool. Willing to be laid back and just say, "Hey.", not freaking out at any point.
The Right Girl way.
And then a hottie throws herself at me, and its not good enough. But there's more to it than this.
I decided to get drunk friday. Nowadays, this is no mean feat. My tolerance used to be legendary, and in ways it still is. but I don't bring the hammer down with alcohol. I don't like to be dehydrated. I don't like to vomit. I just don't like a lot of it anymore.
We were at the Goosetown, again, the only place in this town of 2 million that sells beer, as far as I know. People started showing up in waves.
I was looking good, in a different sort of look for me. My brown leather Doc Marten boots, socks, pale, almost white khaki shorts, and a baggy no collar faux button down green shirt, but not a bright green, more of a subtle faded green, the kind of green that looks right with khaki.
My hair must've been right. caught some girls talking about it at one point. And no, I don't have a perm. Never had, never will. You want to know the truth, I don't even fucking use shampoo anymore. My hair has always been of a fine quality.
And this is my hair related thought: you really don't see any bald homless fuckers. Also: I used to put stuff in my hair to make it more "manegable". Pomade. But why put shit in my hair that makes it look like its unwashed, after washing it, and also makes it fall out? Got no sense to it. So I rinse my hair, sometimes twice a day. It looks better this way, and others have told me so. So NO I'm not gross or anything. And my hair isn't falling out from all the chemicals and shit anymore, either. So FUCK YOU if you think I'm nasty.
Our table loaded up with girls, some friendly, and some not so friendly. I got a response from two that was entirely negative, to which I write off to Social Psy, meaning that arousal is a natural state, and then interpretation dictates emotion. So, the way I look at it, they wanted me, they just didn't know it. Because I did nothing to piss them off so much. It was like I beat up their boyfriend or little brother or something. I didn't even know their goddam names.
And Shelia was there, frantically staring down any girl that looked at me. It was comical. She's stopped staring at me like a loon, and now just tries to psycho out the girls that come my way when she's around. She's almost as tall as me, and being a girl, that's a size of intimidation.
But it was kinda' pointless. After all, the shot girls were flirting with me.
I made nice with Shelia, without sending any sort of mixed message. I am a nice guy for this, I feel. Never touched her once.
And I talked to the girl who grabbed my cock in Novemeber. She's divorced now. If you're interested in what she looks like, she's in the beginning scenes of Aspen Extreme as an extra. She's the asian girl. Lyrically beautiful, she gave me a hug.
We chatted a bit. Later on she came up, and slung her arm around me.
This girl physically fits with me in a way I like so much. I haven't felt this physically compatible with a girl since college.
Truth be known, this is one special and awesome girl. She's a business woman now. Smart, independant, funny, and a real hottie. I would be very lucky indeed. But I guess not yet lucky enough.
And y'know, I thought of her the rest of the night. Even when the two-fisting Revelstoke hotties were talking to me. She commanded that much of my attention.
Slugged some more down and she left to go to another bar, after inviting me. She left with this guy who had a freakish spot of hair on the side of his face. Really long, it covered an area around his temple and high cheek-bone. It freaked me out and gave me the willies. I sat and wiggled in my chair in spasms of disgust. One of the girls at the table browbeat me until I came forward with the info, as I was reluctant to admit I saw it.
Me:"Ewwwwwwwwwwww. Awh. Ugh. "
girl1:"What?"
Me"Ughh. UGH. Ohhhh. Ewwwww. That's not right."
girl1:"What! Tell me now."
Me:"Ewwww. You don't even want to knowwww."
girl1:"Yes I do. You can't do that."
Me:"Trust me: You do not want to know. Fuck! That was nasty."
girl1: "I do trust you, but you have to tell me now. You can't just sit there, do that, and NOT let me know what happened."
Me:"Okay...but...Ugh!...okay. (takes breath)"
girl1"WHAT!!!?"
Me:"There was this guyyy, and he like, had this hairrrrr...all over the side of his face."
girl1(excited)"OH MY GOD! I SAW IT TOO!"
Me"You did? No way."
girl1"YES I DID! OH IT WAS SO GROSS!"
Me"Great, I'm like relieved, I thought no one saw it, and no one would believe if I said anything."
We then discoursed on why he didn't shave, wax or, laser that shit away. It was just so freakish.
Roomie's friend, the famous photographer showed up with two under drinking aged girls in tow. Both little princesses, which disgusts me.
We end up closing the Goose, and the photog takes his girls with him.
I went home, and thought about things for awhile, wishing I wasn't so much of a jackass sometimes, but loving myself the same, soaking in the hot-tub, and then passing out in bed.
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