Why does Pinterest keep sending me suggestions like this? I get a combo of these and vintage travel things. Do they keep up with the blog? Surely.
I had my mother laughing yesterday when I told her about my evening out, but this is what tickled her most.
"So this one guy is a rich, former model. I only see him at the gym in gym clothes, but he showed up looking like a movie star wearing a Trilby hat (who wears hats any more?) and some wide-framed glasses. Rather intimidating, really. He played baseball in college but now runs ultramarathons and is a mixed martial artist of some repute, at least around town. I give him shit in the gym for wearing short shorts, but he says that all the military guys he trains with wear them. They call them 'ranger panties.' He's a badass, so I don't want to poke the bear too hard. Anyway, he and I get along better than most, and he was sitting next to me at the gathering. The night was rowdy with insults and innuendos, and he was grappling me all night with jokes and manly affection, and I swear, mom, it has been so long since I've had anyone touching me, I think I was falling in love."
My mother is pretty homophobic, but she is used to my ribald style of story telling, too. Still, I was surprised by how much this story tickled her.
In truth, the guy is married to a beautiful and very money-making wife and is a bit of a whore because women are terribly attracted to him. He, like so many others, wants to take me out so I can meet a girl. Unlike the others, though, he understands the kind of women I am attracted to. As I say, he's from a wealthy southern family, a to the manor born sort, and has some discretion in his choices.
"We'll go out one night, just the two of us, to a nice place, not like this, and you'll see. We'll have women crawling all over us. The kind you like."
Still, I'm not sure that he understands how emo I am. I only want to find my own true love.
I am flattered, however, that they all worry about filling up my sexual dance card.
My travel/art buddy will give me shit for this little ditty, I know. I can feel his reaction as I write. Something about being a pretentious little mangina I think. Of course, I have to agree. I'll just have to take the beating.
Tonight I go to Grit City for another round of fun with the kids from the factory. I think. I'm not sure yet. It's a bit spooky for me up there. It's Ili's town, and in it, I think, she makes the rounds. The downtown is small and it is a Friday night and I haven't seen her since I left the factory. I'm not sure I would like to run into her by accident there. I'd feel like an intruder, or worse, a stalker. But what are the chances of that, right? I will be with friends and there are sure to be plenty of redneck girls with short skirts and bits of purple or pink highlights dyed into their hair.
Yes. . . I'm a pretentious hillbilly shit. I hate the type, too.
But goddamn, I need new stories so I can make my mother laugh.
Post a Comment