Friday, April 1, 2005

Mormons + bad dates= Glad the Week is Over

So, I've previously written about living in a "bad neighborhood." I hate the term "bad Neighborhood" because, really, it's the term uppity white people use to describe where "poor" or "not-white" people live. And it's really irritating. But I digress, a lot. So, the fun news is: there's a serial rapist attacking women in my neighborhood. In daylight. So, if you see me on the street, day or night, do not approach me. I'm so keyed up odds are I will scream "NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME OR I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU! I DON'T KNOW YOU! DO NOT TOUCH ME!" All the while kicking, hitting, scratching and possibly bludgeoning you with anything I can reach.

I was at work really late yesterday, so I was walking in half light, and people kept talking to me. I was walking so fast and trying to look so confident and alert, by the time I got home, I felt like I had just run a marathon. I'm usually not one to live in fear, but in my head, I am now the A) next target of said rapist or B) the only person who can protect every woman I see from aforementioned rapist. This is a lot for a 23 year old.

Had another date with the younger of my men, let's name him Jeff. Jeff is a total dude. We are talking an entire duplex decorated in nothing but sports banners and paraphenilia. He even has 49ers themed salt and pepper shakers. That's taking devotion to another level. Granted, anyone will tell you that I've gotten into fights over the Raiders, but come on!

Here is where it got awkward. We didn't really go out, we watched a movie (a Matt Damon moving about gambling, no less. As I said, total DUDE) and drank beer. I don't really like beer. I am more of a wine or hard liquor kind of girl. But I drank a beer, see I'm a good sport. Jeff asked me to rub his back. I obliged. After half an hour or so, I asked him to reciprocate. He whined about it, then gave me a two second dead fish kind of rub, which didn't even feel very good. Kind of a dick move, right? So movie ends, it's like 10 pm and I tell him I have to leave. I'm exhausted, I didn't really feel like going out at all but felt badly about cancelling after two weeks of phone tag. He starts asking "you sure you have to leave?" in like 8 different ways. I didn't feel like screaming "I'm on my period and the last thing I want to do is have mediocre sex with you!" So I just told him, Yes I have to go. At which point, I guess, he thinks that an awkward groping semi-makeout will convince me to stay. Yeah. I broke that off and left. Really smoove dude.

Here is the funny part: I bet you money he calls me. Soon. I bet this, because I will also wager that he's not sleeping with anyone else, so I'm the only release he's getting. HA! Fool.

On another wide-swinging tangent: The mormons have found me! They called me on Wednesday, but I was out on a suckulous date (see: above) so I got the old "I'm so friendly, you'd feel like a complete asshole if you didn't call me back" message on the answering machine. So, I didn't call back. Last night, she calls AGAIN. I politely ask to be put on the Do Not Contact list. She's nice enough, and just doing what she thinks is right, but DAMN! Here is my question: HOW DO THEY KEEP FINDING ME? My mother says she's not giving out my address, so how do they keep finding me? And a better question might be: how do I get off their list entirely? I may have to call and ask someone about that. Hmmmmmm.

Anyhow, food and meetings. Yay Friday!

Enjoy the sun if you have it, envy me entirely if you don't!

No comments: