Well, it's out there now, and I can't reel it back in.
So I'll continue...
I went out with a girl from work a few weeks ago, Friday the 13th to be exact. Her "man" had just recently dumped her; called her at work nonetheless to break the news. Now, when I get dumped, all hell breaks loose - the ground opens up, flowers wilt, and fire rains from the clouds. Or at least it would had I ever been dumped. But not her, no. She caves. She cries. She asks Vixen to go out with her. To a bar. Bars and I don't get along. Bars are full of drunk people, and drunk people piss me off.
The entire time, she's begging me to call her Ex, whom we'll call, ummm.. I can't think of a name derogatory enough. I should put the fuckhead's real name up here, but alas, I still have one moral - and fortunately for him, it is to not bash losers with their real names.
Ok, so I have no morals, and he's not that fortunate. Matt. We'll call him Matt.
So I call Matt. I don't tell him who I am though, because he wants nothing to do with her, won't talk to her, so on so forth. Therefore, it's my job to get him to talk to her. Lucky me. I play it up, tell him how good he sounds over the phone, and oh yes, baby, fuck you sound hot, I soooo want to meet you, mhmm. *giggle*
What I didn't know, mind you, was that the dumb ho told him she worked with me, and he remembered working with me from when I worked at the hospital. Nice.
So now, Matt has my number, and has agreed to let my friend come over so long as, and only if "you come with her."
Like I was going anywhere else by this time. I apologized to the guy who really was hot, took the number he slipped me, and headed to the door with my girl friend. Because I'm
Maybe I shouldn't be telling you all this. It kind of makes me look like the drunk idiot. But.. It makes Matt look even worse since he couldn't even get a totally trashed me to fuck him.
So I'll continue...
We get there, I call him from the driveway and tell him we had arrived. We enter. His house is really cute. Little two bedroom. I should have said "could have been really cute" if he hadn't been the one to decorate. I step past him to investigate, "you don't mind if I look around?" He shakes his head no - a wise move, because I don't like being denied my requests, you know. I do, on the other hand, like a man who knows how to obey. I allow them to live. My main concern was with the bathroom's locale - I'd been drinking, after all. I didn't enter his bedroom, even to look around. I'd have had to open the door, anyway.
Between my several dozen trips to the lavatory and texting sprees while sitting on the couch listening to them converse rationally (their conversation was only rational - or at a reasonable volume level when I was on the couch. If I wasn't in the room it was shrieking slander city.) As usual, I said the things everyone was thinking and should have said ages ago, but were too chickenshit to say. Things such as "so Matt, 'Kid #2' may be yours, and you know this.. Why haven't you demanded a paternity test??"
Yeah, I'm a blast at parties. Just hire me as a party favor for your next bash. Just don't tell me any secrets before I'm scheduled to perform.
She left at 11:45. I stayed with Matt. I wasn't done and she wanted me to keep talking to him.
"Convince him to give me another chance."
Whatever dumbshit. I just don't want to get sober yet.
I'm annoyed by this girl. She's stupid.
I'm gonna speed through the rest, because it makes me cringe to think about. Between midnight and 3:30 a.m. several things took place. They argued on the phone, I texted others, he moved from his chair to the couch beside me, his bedroom door suddenly became open during one of my trips to the bathroom, the lights went out, he wound up on the floor on his knees.. At my feet. Ok, cool. He belongs there. But it wasn't until his hands went from my feet, to my calves, then reached my upper thighs that I realized that whoa.. Yuck.
I should only be allowed to drink in padded rooms, surrounded by gorgeous people who were gorgeous before I got inebriated and not because of my inebriation. Fuck, who am I kidding? He wasn't gorgeous after I got inebriated. What I need is a bodyguard. An extremely attractive bodyguard, at that, just so if I wake up half clothed, with people I don't know - at least they look good. I'm too fond of mauling my drinking buddies.
But even drunk, I'm still not stupid.
I pushed him off of me, told him I was leaving, he offered to let me spend the night (lucky me, eh?), I told him thanks but no thanks, I'd rather walk home. And walk home I did. I got here at 4 a.m. and spent the rest of the night on the phone with a man I began talking to from Facebook.
My phone rings at noon - it's Matt - he leaves a message stating that he was just calling to make sure I got home. Are you fucking kidding me?
I haven't spoken to him since that night, but he's sure talked about me. He told the dumb ass that we "held hands". Yeah, I cracked up when she told me that. What're we in, grade school? The only time I touched him on purpose was when I shoved the phone at him, "call your fucking girlfriend!" He also asked her to "hook us up" and carried on about how he'd liked me since we worked at the hospital together.
Might I mention that he was stone-cold sober. Yeah.
Ever since, she's been attached to my hip. She also spent the night with him a week later, the next Friday. The Friday, in fact, that he had asked me to come over as I was his "perfect partner". Yeah, yeah, she fucked him alright. She lied to me about it, but her car was parked in his driveway. She had to come clean when she came to me at work with, "Vixen, I'm afraid I may be pregnant." Hahahahaaaaa. The only thing worse than a drunk dumb ass is a sober dumb ass.