Sooo, I met this adorable dude with a handlebar mustache and a penchant for tree-hugging at Church Night (note: Church Night has absolutely nothing to do with religion and everything to do with boozin’ and dancin’) a few weeks back. We exchanged numbers and ended up going on a whiskey-filled date that involved stealing ashtrays and drinks, and was all around, pretty fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that due to my past history with awesome guys, I will definitely screw this up, or he will figure out that I am not nearly as cool as I portray. He is also leaving to save the earth in California for the summer, so I am not really putting too much hope in this working out long-term. He is pretty damn awesome and can match me for drinks, and likes to steal random things, so I will admit that I am kinda sad about it. Que Sera. We are supposed to hang this week, but my schedule is pretty nutso.
Next on the docket for discussion is the fact that my past is coming in to haunt me. Everyone has those long-lost, unrequited loves, no? Mine are Denver Hipster and A. Those two have put me on the emotional heartbreak rollercoaster more times than I care to count. Denver Hipster and I have a 15 year history, and can’t ever seem to quit eachother, despite relationships, engagements, and distance, we never seem to lose that lovin’ feelin’. I haven’t seen him in a bazillion years, and of course, he is gracing me with his presence this weekend – my birthday weekend. Our schedules are conflicting, so I am supposed to have lunch with him and his mother on Friday, which should be interesting, to say the least. I am curious to see how that goes. And as for A, he is like a bad penny. He just swoops into town once or twice a year, toys with my emotions and hops back on a plane to his latest destination. I am like some bizarre masochistic fueling station for him, it seems. I haven’t spoken to him in over a year, and them BLAM! He pops up on my phone and lets me know he is in town and we need to catch up. We also share a birthday, 8 years apart mind you, so we are due obligatory birthday drinks. Wait – does this mean this year is his big 4-0?!? (I am ok with this, as he always picks fantastic wines and the conversation is generally stimulating enough so that I am not writing a grocery list in my head while he is droning on about something…) Regardless, it seems that no matter what happens, I am looking forward to dusting off some crazy baggage this week.
Speaking of crazy and baggage – MK decided to update his fictional autobiography, in which he refers to me as “Constance”. Seeing as I was preoccupied and missed his phone call, he launched into his usual manic state and proceeded to hit me where is hurts – my waistline.
Have a read:
If you are Constance, I reccomend you don’t read this. You will be pissed. You should have answered the phone……..
this chapter is in need of a rewrite… but later, winston is now digging up graves in lafayette…….
As Winston drove to Constance’s house he felt a tinge of regret. He always said what was on his mind, it was an affliction of honesty that he couldn’t escape. Telling her to loose thirty five pounds before they could date, was the truth, however it opened a door that couldn’t be closed. Attraction was an eight legged spider that crawled over you, spining a web that eventually transformed the victims experience of love. I just can’t get pass the physical, if i can’t lust after your beauty, how can i love you? How can i relish the desperate love of one engulfed? No matter how she pushed all the buttons, pushed them so well, he couldn’t cover the hole of physicality that was left between them. Shepard Drive was such a bitch this time of day, and the whole no left turn thing was as confusing as the one locked door on so many convenience stores. Why do they lock one of the doors? Do they think this will confuse the thief as he makes a speedy getaway? Such were the mundane questions that afflicted Winston.
With that his phone rang.
The grammatical errors alone make me want to punch a baby. Some of the girls and I have taken to reading this trainwreck as a spoken word piece whilst having drinks on my porch in the evenings. That seems to have taken some of the sting out of it, but the whole thing still stinks of douchey immaturity – I pissed him off and so he is going to, not so subtly, launch an attack on my weight for all of his blog readers to see. Dude really needs to get help for his issues. At least he is out of state and soon to be out of the country. Until then, I will still check to insure all of my doors and windows are locked every night.