Monday, May 23, 2011

Tiny World

Before I tell this story, I want to share a quote from a show called Dead Like Me. It's kind of an old show but I only recently discovered (and devoured) it. There's this real asshole on a few episodes, and at one point he imparts this gem (which is a list so NATURALLY I love it):

Five reasons men are scum and women let us get away with it. 
1. we only want one thing. No exceptions. 
2. we fall in love with you before we can have that thing and then fall back out once we've had it, whereas women conversely fall in love afterwards. 
3. we will lie, cheat, steal or murder in order to get that thing... why am I sugarcoating this, you're a big girl... in order to fuck you. 
4. we freely admit the numbers one, two, three, and women don't care. 
And the number five reason why men are scum and women let us get away with it: you can't live without us.

The topmost reason I love that? #2. So stupid, so simple, and SO FUCKING TRUE.

And now on to today's story... the story of how my big city got reeeeeeeally itty-bitty the other night. While I was naked.

Pre-story: a little over a year ago, I was walking (stumbling) home from the bar after having a bit much. I was maybe a block from home when I passed a cute guy smoking. One of my classic moves: ask for a drag of his cigarette. We talked for a few seconds (it was clear we were both tipsy), and then I tried to wander off. He sputtered, "uh, can I borrow your phone? Mine's... dead."

I lent him my phone, but we kept talking. At no point did he use the phone. He ended up walking me home and asking for my number. I decided, I'm going to be good this time. I told him that I was not letting him in because I didn't know him, so I went in to grab a pen and paper. When I stepped back out, my cat was showing signs of wanting to make a run for it, so I closed the door.

The number was given, and we chatted a few more minutes. Then I grabbed my doorknob and...

...hmmm. It was... locked. Oops?

When I first moved into my current apartment, some friends were over getting empty boxes from me, and one closed the door without realizing the doorknob was locked. That night, we discovered that my friend's key unlocked my doorknob. WHAT. So the night with this guy (let's call him Ray, because that's not his name), I grabbed his keys and tried that. Of course, didn't work.

He felt terrible, and valiantly offered to try to break me into my own home. He sheepishly revealed that in his early teens he'd done some break-ins. Drunkenly, I said, "go for it!" So he clawed and pawed at my front window screen, eventually bending the frame in order to yank it off, only to discover that no, he could not in fact get my damn window open from the outside.

Then he felt worse. And then I realized: HI I AM A RETARD. Which you, my lovely readers, already know and probably anticipated because of the presence of a Cute Guy in this story. Cute Guy + BobGinger = loss of BobGinger brain cells. Because, Internet? After that first time I locked myself out, I gave a spare key to my best friend Hedgehog. Who lives across the street. And who was, at that very moment of screen bending and breaking, happily drinking at the bar down the road.

Long story made a smidge shorter, got the key, got in, had a couple dates with Ray, realized Ray wasn't really as into me as he was at first and in fact, just basically wanted to screw. In my lovely, panicky, pushy way I blurted out one day in his bed, "Is this a THING, or is this just sex?" (Ladies, a tip: if you feel the need to ask, you already have your answer)

Oh, friends, the look of panic in his young eyes!

As I'm sure you all can guess, that was the last time I saw Ray. We talked a couple of times (mostly texted) after that, mostly him making and then breaking plans. Finally we both just stopped texting at all, and that was that.

So what makes this story relevant now? As of about a week ago, I have a new lovah. I met him at work, where he (along with several of his co-workers of course) were building our new desks in our new office area. His company was only here for 2 days, so I had to move fast! Without going into details (because this post is already stupidly long), I did my thing that I do, and sure enough we ended up going out after I got off work the 2nd and last day his crew was in my building.

We've hung out a couple of times since, and one night he was over at my place. We talked, he was telling me about how Tuesdays are "guys' nights," and this game he and his buddies play, and how his friend Ray is really ridiculously good at it. I don't think a damn thing of it - there's gotta be a couple hundred guys named Ray in this city.

Later, after we've bonked our brains out, we are lying in my bed, still naked and a bit sweaty, chatting idly, I think about drawing or comics maybe? In any case, he brings up his friend Ray again, who is writing this goofy comic of his own creation called Weird Name. (not really called Weird Name, come on. That would be stupid. I just don't don't want to tell you the name because apparently my universe is about THIS >< BIG so YOU probably know this guy too!!)

me: Haha, wait. Weird Name?
him: Yeah.
me: Your friend Ray is Ray BlahBlah??
him: Yeah!
him: (looking baffled)
me: I used to, um, sort of... date him? like a year ago. He got me locked out and broke my screen.
him: OH MY GOD. I think I remember him telling me that story!!
me: yeah, we only hung out a few times and then it was over because he was just in it for the ... sex... (realizing how horribly awkward and awful it is that I just said that to the guy I JUST FUCKED and is there anything sharp around so I can just stab myself in the eye right now??)

I asked Desk (as I call this new lovah, which he knows and thinks is cute, although he is NOT allowed to read this blog probably ever and he says that's fine) if this was weird, and he said, "hmm. A little, I guess. But not really." We then talked about how messy Ray is, and finally I concluded, "he's not an asshole. Just young and doesn't know how to express what he wants, and we wanted different things." He agreed with that assessment, and now I'm just spending my time hoping Ray never told Desk anything awful about me.

After Desk left, I pulled up Ray's Facebook page. We're no longer friends, but I can still see some of his photos, and I remembered there were a couple of his group of guy friends on the beach. Sure enough, those are public. In one of them, the guy who is front and center and the focus of the picture is... yeah. Desk. With long hair. Which means? I have totally seen him before, back when Ray and I were friends and he was showing me his FB pictures.


Time to move. Or at least stop having sex in this city.

1 comment:

  1. i'm really glad you don't start all your posts with "In Seattle ... blah blah blah" then pan to a breakfast or coffee discussion.