I realize by airing out my dirty laundry on here, I'm taking a chance on judgment being passed on me. It's quite possible after reading a few of these blogs you'll label me as a cold harded bitch. A blonde slut. A picky complainer. An opinionated ditz. I'm fully aware of this. I'm a tough broad and I've probably been called worse. Just as long as you add "...but she's got great hair" then we're all good. :-) So, here it goes...
I lead no big, extravagant life like a lot of people think I do. I don't party with Britney Spears every weekend, panty-less, I watch the West Wing on rainy nights, and sometimes I whistle out of nowhere just to remind myself that I still can. But, what I think gets me in the situations I get myself into is my smartass mouth...okay, andddd my blonde hair and big boobs.
I'm not going to lie to you, I've had no recent prospects worth talking about. The most recent offer of a date was from a man last night in the bread aisle at the grocery store. Silly me, the offer from a man holding onion bagels and referring to me as "baby girl" just didn't seem to cut it for me. Butttt, the most recent and legit offer was from a guy whom we'll call...Ben. Since working in downtown Cleveland, I've had the opportunity to meet some new faces and some of these faces have been pretty fucking rad. I met Ben when working at an event in downtown Cleveland. He's so not my type. On the outward appearance he was somebody my mother would have approved of. But the dealbreaker for me? He had a lumberjack beard. I'm no Ke$ha, you will never hear me say "I like your beard." Which caused some friction between my high school lunch lady and I. (I swear that woman could grow some major patches of hair on her face.)
Like most, my first judgment is the outward appearance, so not being fully attracted to him I kept to myself and my friend Beth and I flirted with the band we were working next to. After the event had ended, Ben and I started to talk. It became obvious to me that he was a smart ass and pretty funny. The combination of the two is a type of kryptonite for me. By the time we had walked out to our cars, he asked for my number. I had two choices 1.) I could give him my real number. or 2.) I could give him the number of a local pizza shop like I often do. Since I knew I was most likely going to run into him again, I went with the first choice.
After a week of the casual text and phone call from him, my verdict was that he seemed like a pretty cool cat. After some convincing he asked me to come over to his apartment to watch the "Shining" that I admitted to never seeing. I agreed to it, figuring the excuse of "having to wash my hair" was a little too cruel for this nice of a guy. When I arrived inside his apartment, I was pleasantly surprised how tidy it was for a bachelor pad. As small talk about the apartment ended, the invite to the bedroom followed. "I have a great TV in my bedroom, we could watch the movie in there." Now, we were both adults and I guessed that we both could handle with watching a film in a room with a bed in it. Why not, since I decided beforehand that I wasn't planning on sleeping with him? Yes, I decide these things beforehand.
As I entered into his room, I noticed a Nickelback poster on his wall. I tried not to judge him for his horrible taste in music. But, I felt ashamed for him. Posters automatically make me think of when I was 15 years old. As he closed the door, I was expecting his mother to pop out of nowhere and knock on the outside telling us to leave the door open. I gave myself the pep talk - Okay Haley, just give him a chance. You're too used to dating older guys. He's one year older than you. This is a different ballgame than what you're used to.
He awkwardly sat next to me on the bed, he pressed the play button on the remote control and proceeded to talk during the first half of the movie. The basics were talked between us: work, school, music and ...if size matters. That question came out of nowhere out of his mouth. I sat there staring at Jack's face on the screen, wondering if I heard Ben correctly. My next move? My eyes automatically went to the crotch area of his jeans. It's like if someone asks you if the paint on the bench is wet, regardless on whether you know or not, you automatically look at the fucking bench and touch it. Thank god, I refrained from the touching part. "Umm, I guess it varies with the girl." I responded. I was hoping and praying the subject would be dropped. Good thing I decided beforehand I wasn't sleeping with him because I now had a neon billboard sign that he was packing something that resembled tiny Tim downstairs all from that random question that he asked me. I may be blonde but I'm no dummy.
The topic of conversation had moved on with him but sadly for him, both him and I weren't on the same page. Because, I don't know if you've ever seen "What Women Want" with Mel Gibson but if you don't hold our interest, our minds are going to wander. For all I know he could have been talking about wanting to lock me up in his neighbor's closet and steal my identity but in the back of my mind I was wondering why I didn't go with a darker shade of red for my finger nails and how his floor color matched these really pretty boots I saw at the mall. As long as you smile, nod, and say "are you sure?" it'll be believable. Trust me. Those that know me, know that I'm a talker so this act was not me at all.
I was sadly interrupted from my random thoughts when he got closer towards my neck. I can't explain the move I did to get out of it to move my body away from him, but I'm sure it looked like a poor made up dance move from a white girl. Regardless on how ridiculous it looked, it worked and managed to achieve some space between the both of us.
So there I am, sitting on this guy's bed, who likes Nickelback and is packing a small penis, watching the TV wondering what the hell is happening in this hotel and why there are little children in the hallway. I officially feel a degree of lame. Thoughts are interrupted again when I all of a sudden hear in a seductive manner "Have you ever had your asshole licked?" ...I had no words for what seemed like 3 hours. I then stared at his beard, wondering if he had trouble eating spaghetti without any of it getting caught in it, then the poster of Nickelback came into sight. Then the beard. Then the poster. This shit wasn't worth it. My final response? "Not in the last half hour. Time for me to go." As I got up from the bed, got my coat on, and my purse together. I kind of felt bad. A little. And I started to question on whether I was leading him on or if my final response was too bitchy? The verdict was No and No.
My co-worker has reminded me how awkward it's going to be if I see him again. Yes, it probably will be. More awkward then when I saw my old Elementary teacher dressed in Drag. But, Ben's got his Nickelback and his beard, what more can a man need for comfort?
The sad ending to this story is I never did find out who those little children were in that movie.
XoX
Hotto
No comments:
Post a Comment