Small Talk

It's a bitch being single.
A royal pain in the ass.

Last night - true, it was a weekday. but its alcohol. how can I say no? - I’m hanging out with my new friend Dibs at this bar. (Who by the way is soooo hot, but I could never tell her that, at least not in an "I dig you" way, coz on the one hand she is totally straight, on the other she's got a boyfriend, and on a third hand I kinda like having her as a friend).

Yes, so we were at this funky bar leisurely contemplating the avant-garde decor...(um, ok well she was contemplating the decor, while I contemplated her - coz have I mentioned she's hot?)...when she moseyed off to get us some more coolers.

Its alcohol, of course I'll have another one. Or two. Or five.
I watch her walk away.
I almost watch her walk away.
This huge, butt-ugly, not-my-type-in-all-kinds-of-ways guy just appears from nowhere and inserts himself into my line of vision.
I'm thinking: Hello, yes Hi, you are blocking my view of the eye candy.
He comes over and asks for a light, so I give him my lighter. He saunters off.
Next thing he’s back coz he wants a smoke. Sure. Here, have two.
Maybe next time you’ll get a ciggie, then a light, in that order.
The time? Uh…just after eleven.
Oh you like my hair? I also dig this hairstyle, not too short and not too long.
Nah, I don't come here often, too expensive for me.
My pants? Um, its regular cotton I think. Yeah, yeah, very airy indeed.
Dude, please, lets not do the weather.

I needed to get away before I told him exactly what I thought of his crocodile shoes. The last time people did crocodile was when Sean Connery was James Bond.
I could see the ladies room out of the corner of my eye.
It beckoned.
I obliged.

But the worst part? HE FREAKING FOLLOWED ME.
No, it was not an Ally McBeal-ly unisex loo. Not with that big milkmaid figurine nailed to the door. And if he happened to miss that not so subtle gender demarcation, it was clearly written LADIES in red neon letters at the top of the door.

What do you have to do to get away from a guy these days? If I wasn’t so closeted I’d strut around with a T-Shirt that says "Meow, I luv pussies". But I don’t like fucking hate cats. I won't spoil if for you because my acrimony and just outright revulsion for cats deserves to be outlined in its own special post.

But back to the Croc Dude… I must have lost my mind coz somehow I ended up giving him my number. It got him off my back for the rest of the evening, but it’s less that 24 hours later and he's already called me 4 times. I haven’t picked up yet. How many times am I going to give my number to someone I know I never want to see ever again? You’d think after the first 600 times I’d learn. Another lesson me in all my royal thickness and fucking density have somehow failed to grasp is : don't go to a bar on a week night.

Oh well.
Like I said:
It's a bitch being single.
A royal pain in the ass.