Things not to say to a prospective suitor, 101

Friday, June 17, 2005, 8:30pm
Ming Garden Restaurant / Bar

I've been here before, but just to eat. The bar section is hidden off to the side, behind a pair of French doors, like an unruly child.

"There's ALL kindsa honies in this place!" Troy says through a tight smile, his eyes narrowed confidently. "I hook up all the time here!"

Troy invited Dom, but he declined. Dom's never commented on the Tim incident, but we haven't been out drinking since then, and we haven't spoken much socially.

It's Karaoke night. Or at least I assume it is, based on the chick at the front of the room, shreiking her way through "Fame" by Irene Cara. Her performance would be a little less difficult to watch if she took the pocketbook off her shoulder as she performed her epileptic dance moves.

I've decided I need a fuck buddy. No, I need three or four. I need a bevy of pussies-in-waiting to allow me to get laid at an hour's notice no matter what time it is. I need triple-redundancy, the capability to have sex NOW, even if option one is on her period, and option two is on vacation.

I've never truly had a fuck buddy. I suppose Vicky counts, but I only see her maybe three or four times a year. No, the girls I am with always wind up thinking they are my girlfriend. I never come out and tell them that, but they just assume it in time. They get attached, and I cut and run, and it ends badly. It's always the same story. Obviously, I am not making my point clearly enough with them.

I am going to try something with the next one I meet: I will tell her in no uncertain terms that I don't want a relationship. Sure, I'll lose a few prospects that way. But the ones who stick around won't have any illusions. At least not at the beginning.

My eyes travel from female to female: Too fat. Too old. Already surrounded by three guys. Too drunk. Too skinny. Too much makeup. Rotten teeth. This place sucks.

"Troy, where are all these girls you were talking-"

"What's your drink, Steve? What're you havin'?" He slaps my back with a steely hand, almost knocking me off my stool.

"Vodka tonic."

"You GOT it, boss!"

Two hours pass. Troy is trying hard, but there's really not much to work with. When I see him talking to a spiky-haired chick with a tattoo on her neck, I know it's time to intervene. Has this guy forgotten who he's already fucking?

"C'mere, Troy."

"'Sup, guy? Havin' a good time?"

"This place is dead."

He nods slowly, like a child being scolded. "I'm sorry, Steve. It's usually really good-"

"Don't worry about it, Troy. I appreciate the invite."

He sighs. "I should probably call Ally, anyway."

"How come you're not with her tonight?"

"Girls' night out."

"Ahhhh."

"Ah fuckin' hate tha'. I really wanted to see'er tonight." He's slurring his words badly. No wonder he was hitting on that West-Coast-Chopper-looking chick.

"Oh yeah?"

"She fuckin' fucks me, but she won't fuckin' blow me."

"Thanks for the overshare, bro."

"Nah, ah'm SERIOUS! She fuckin' doesn't want my cock in her mouth!" A couple of heads turn.

"Hey man, keep your voice down."

"Why doesn't she wanna blow me, Steve?"

"You ever eat hot dogs?"

"Yeah."

"Do you shove them down your throat whole?"

"No."

"Alright then."

He stares off into space as if pondering metaphysics.

"It probably makes her gag. Tell her to lick it like a popsicle."

"Good idea, Steve." He hugs me.

And you guys thought I wasn't getting any action tonight!

**********

Sunday, June 18, 2005

I worked around the house all day yesterday, and didn't even make an attempt to go out. But if I'm really serious about finding fuck buddies, I'd better get cracking.

I didn't call Tim this week, even though I said I would. I did it intentionally.

I'm sure every guy loses his cool around her, even normally suave guys who have it all together. I'm sure THEY all call her when they say they are going to. The way I see it, if 100 guys call her, and one does not, who is she going to remember?

I'm sure she's wise to what I'm doing, and she probably won't call me either. I'll call her next Thursday, but not a minute earlier. In the meantime I need to get some more prospects. But first, some chores.

Top Notch Drycleaner
11:15am

I'm doing my weekly pick-up and drop-off. There's a long line ahead of me, and only one person behind the counter. The customer is arguing loudly with him about a tie that's ripped.

A girl walks in and gets in line behind me. I glance at her and look away.

Wait a minute. Was she HOT?

I look back at her. Her short brown hair is tucked neatly under a red scarf. She's not wearing any makeup at all, but still manages to look cute, with her deep dimples and straight teeth. She's wearing a baggy T-shirt, so I can't say she's flat-chested, but she's definitely not big on top.

"Hi," I smile, as if she were an old friend.

"Hiyee!" she chirps. I'm getting an airhead vibe all of a sudden.

"....it was NOT that way when I brought it in here!" the customer is saying.

"Hope you're not in a hurry," I say with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes. "How long have they been arguing?"

"Five minutes, at least. Every time I come in here, it's something else. But they do good work."

"AWESOME work. I was about to throw away an old dress of mine because it had a stain, and just for the heck of it I brought it here, and they got it out!"

"Good deal!"

She glances down at the slacks and blazers draped over my arm. "Gettin' your suits cleaned, hah?"

No, I'm just holding them for the exercise, honey.

"Yep. How 'bout you?"

"I'm actually here to pick up a tablecloth. Believe it or not."

The customer storms out, pushing the door open so hard that it bangs against the outside wall of the store.

"Looks like he lost the argument," I say.

"Yeah," she laughs. "So, where do you work?"

We talk for another five minutes, until it's just about my turn. I'm sure as hell not going to stand around and wait for her while she picks up her tablecloth, so it's now or never.

Suddenly it occurs to me that this is how you do it, THIS is how you build a stable. You talk to every girl you see, not just in bars, but everywhere. You make your own luck. And I did that, without even thinking, and it's working!

"Hey," I say. "You wanna go for a drink Friday night?"

She stares at me. Ah, shit. I guess she's married.

"OK!" she exclaims.

"Ok, cool."

"This'll be fun!" she smiles. "I haven't been on a date in months!"