April Twelve: Bad Form

I feel out of shape. I’ve been drinking soda and beer and chewing tobacco constantly all week. That shit will kill you. The soda mostly, the jury is still out on Redman I think.

After an evening of rolling around with sweaty men twice my size who were trying to choke me, I decided to shoot some text messages to a couple of girls and have them meet up for drinks with me. This is always a low percentage move since girls already have plans by 9:00 PM on a Friday; and those are plans that the are unlikely to deviate from. It’s actually retarded if you think about it. Better to text on the weekend to make plans for later in the week – that works. Needless to say, none of the girls came through. I decided to roll solo through some of the regular downtown spots. A lost slut yelled at a bicycle cab to give her a ride. His cab was full but that didn’t stop her from being indignant about him not stopping. She yelled “fuck you!” He replied with “fuck you too!” His tone was sarcastic while hers was desperate yet entitled. She had this super petite friend who reminded me of one of those internet porn chicks with some hormonal problem that makes them look like they’re twelve even though they’re really like twenty. They put lollipops in their pussies and say “daddy” a lot and whatever. It’s all really fake. She had a look on her face like she was smelling piss with every breath, which I found off-putting. I decided I would go and post up at the Stinky Old Tavern since I hate walking from bar to bar only to see that there is nobody I want to talk to. Better to sit and wait than troll sometimes. Sure enough there were no attractive women there. So I sat and drank Heineken, which costs 2.50 on draft. It’s heaven. Around my second Heineken two girls in dresses, one pink and one black, walked in and I immediately sat next to them and started chatting. I showed them how to take someone else’s tip and put it in front of you as if it was yours while the bartender’s back is turned. Pink Dress was disgusted by me but Black Dress was intrigued. Pink Dress actually offered to switch seats with Black Dress so she wouldn’t have to sit next to me anymore after aggressively questioning why I was “wearing a suit” at the Old Tavern and not finding my non-answers to her satisfaction. Black Dress is a fucking charmer. She has that rare quality of making you feel awesome even when you’re not being awesome. She told me I could have any girl in the bar looking the way I do. I looked around at the fatties and degenerate alcoholics with ugly tattoos and laughed saying “I sure have a great litter to pick from.” She said I seemed totally in command of my environment and that she was jealous of me for it. The girl who knows exactly how to stoke a guy’s ego.

Now for the part where I fuck it up.  [As I’m writing this, the girl I’m writing about walks into the cafe. I smell her perfume. She’s with Pink Dress who changed apparently. They went outside without saying “hi.” I’m just going to keep writing until I can’t hold my poop in any longer and then I’m going to leave.]

So anyway, I told Black Dress all my typical stories and had a thumb war with her and whatever I usually do. Our interaction went reasonably well considering I kept stalling with nothing to say. My mind was empty. I hadn’t slept enough, lost too much air doing Jiujitsu, or was dumb from not taking adderall or chewing Redman all day. Whatever it was, I had regressed at least four years in conversational skill and was fucking awful. What killed me was he latitude of acceptance for it. It was as if she was saying “keep going, you only need to make mediocre conversation. I’m won over. Just keep talking. I believe in you.” I was meanwhile thinking “you have no game tonight, you are going through the motions in the most awkward and mechanical way possible. Just get up and leave. Go home and go to bed.” Anyway, we exchanged numbers and I gave her a quick kiss goodnight when she said she had to go. I went piss and she was trying to pry Pink Dress away from the guy she obviously wanted to fuck her. On the way to my car, I ran into Pink Dress and her suitor. She had the drunken bewilderment and said “OH MY GOD YOU’RE THAT GUY FROM THE BAR!” Yes, I was. I was going home. But she insisted on having me show her where the pizza place was. Nothing like a night of drinking and eating greasy food and getting fucking by a stranger. She’s gross. She decided she would call Black Dress even and tell her she was coming over when she gave me the phone because she thought it would be sooooooo funny if I was on the line. I foolishly played along and Black Dress thought I was the dude she was with and it was all very confusing. I told her it was me and she seemed like she was not amused. This was a mistake. I need to get this whore away from me. She’s fucking up my whole night here. I go to my car and decline the Whore’s offer to stay at Back Dress’ house but the phone died mid sentence. I called Black Dress from my phone (another mistake) and she said I could sleep on the couch if I was drunk. I declined because I wasn’t drunk and didn’t have the momentum for the bang. Then she asked what Whore was doing, so I walked into the pizza place and gave Whore the phone. She walked away and talked on it for a second while I made useless conversation with the guy who was trying to stick it to Whore. She gave me the phone back and said “Black Dress is going to bed” mockingly. I left. How the fuck did I get caught up in so much post-goodbye conversation? That’s literally the worst thing you can do. It reeks of desperation and clinginess. Goodbye and gone. That’s the lesson here. Don’t screw up what you barely managed to get anyway.

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